Birmingham
by ThisIsReallyHappening
Summary: I loved her, even when she didn't know love was possible. Most folks don't see the beauty in that, but if they saw what I felt, maybe the world would be a little less blind. ExB. Rated M.
1. Prologue

BlueEyedCherry (Beta). Cinnynala (Pre-reader). beegurl13 (Banner maker). Mia Isabella Cullen (Advisor of all things). We're at it again. And by 'we', I mean 'you'. A million thanks will never be enough.

Updates: 3-5x/week. Time Period: An era that should've never existed. Banner: Amazing and on profile-thanks bee!

 _ **Summary: I loved her, even when she didn't know love was possible. Most folks don't see the beauty in that, but if they saw what I felt, maybe the world would be a little less blind.**_

* * *

 **This story is going to hurt. It's going to make you uncomfortable. It's going to be painful and offensive and at times, make you angry. You are going to scream and yell and pray and cry for a happy ending because damn it, something's got to give.**

 **It just has to.**

 **Welcome to Birmingham.**

* * *

 **Birmingham**

 **Chapter One: (Prologue)**

 _"If you can't fly, then run. If you can't run, then walk. If you can't walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward."_

 _-Martin Luther King Jr._

She first heard them by the river when she was six years old. She knew she shouldn't have traveled down Glory Road from school, but it was the easiest route instead of going the long way around. Sue should have been with her that day, but according to her brother Billy she had smallpox, and their mama wouldn't dare allow Sue to be in the company of other children. So she walked alone that Tuesday afternoon.

Her books were heavy and they bounced against her side, slipping down the palm of her hand, which was sweaty from the late spring's sweltering heat. All that walking made her ruffled, white socks slide into her Mary Janes, and every so often she'd have to stop and pull them up. It took twice the effort and with the sun blazing down, she sang the alphabet to keep her mind at ease. Her blonde pigtails swung to her tune and she skipped happily down the road.

She had less than a quarter mile to go and for the last time, her books dropped right from her hands. She bent over and picked them up, trying to cradle them in the nook of her forearm.

That's when she heard them.

"Wade in the water  
Wade in the water, children  
Wade in the water  
God's gonna trouble the water…"

It was an old gospel hymn, the kind folks sang from the pit of their bellies right into another's soul. It seemed to hit her soul too. Her shiny black shoes appeared to wade on the dust themselves, carrying her past a blackberry bush and thick thistles with prickly stems. The choral melody got louder and louder the closer she got. She even started singing along, the lyrics easy to memorize for someone who loved music like she did.

"Wade in the water…" The six year old giggled to herself, not understanding what wading was or why God, Jesus's Father, was going to trouble anything. She figured she'd ask her own mama when she got home. There was another bush in the way, but with a swing of her hand she could see and hear the water flowing against the edge of the bank.

She saw an oak tree too, the kind that was rotted near the base with ants crawling all up and down it. It stood mighty and strong and there, right _there_ , was the source of that beautiful music.

There were a lot of folks, she thought—six she counted—just standing out there in the woods. She wondered if they were playing a game. It looked mighty fun and she wanted to be a part of it. The other people didn't look happy; in fact, they wore rags with red strawberry jam smeared all over them. Well, it looked like jam to her. And they were awfully sweaty, but they were singing.

"Little girl, what you doin' out here child? Git!" The tall man wearing a straw hat and dirty overalls had a long rope in his hand. It was tied in a circle, knotted real tight, and hung from a tree. "And y'all shut that racket up!"

 _I bet they're playing doggies_ , she pondered to herself. It was something she and Sue did often, pretending to be dogs and owners; only they had a real leash from Sue's dog, Mr. Wrinkles.

The singing stopped and those sweaty people looked at her, fearful and wide-eyed. The little girl got a sinking feeling in her tummy, like when her daddy knew she didn't eat all of her lima beans at supper.

But she stood there, unmoving, in her black Mary Janes that weren't so shiny anymore.

"Fine, you wanna watch, youngin'? See what happens when these darkie ingrates you feed and home steal from you." The tall man in the straw hat put the rope around a young boy who couldn't find it in his heart to sing anymore.

He begged though, screaming and hollering while those beside him did the same.

There were no more songs sung that day, no more wading in the water.

The little girl watched the mean man do a horrible thing with that rope and that young boy and that tree.

She stared in horror as the life drained from the boy's eyes and cried like Jesus himself had died when the boy finally stopped kicking.

When she found the strength to move, she ran as fast as she could, her books long forgotten.

.

.

.

My name is Esme Platt. When I was just a child, I watched a boy hang for the color of his skin. It resonated with me, the fact that a person could be treated with such indignity simply because they were different. I carry that memory with me every single day, pondering why God chose me to live in a world with such hatred.

At 19, I married the love of my life. His name is Carlisle Masen and in the eyes of the Lord, I'm Esme Masen. By law, I'm shunned and the wife of no one. A year after we wed, I bore a son. He's a beautiful boy that's as sweet as blackberries and as innocent as an angel.

I wish he had never been born.


	2. Yellow

**Chapter Two: Yellow**

 _"There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires."_

 _~Nelson Mandela_

 _(EPOV)_

There wasn't anything worse than being called a Negro to your face, but my father wore that title proudly, like a drunk wore whiskey on his breath.

He'd come home from the cotton field, unlacing his work boots one at a time and whistling hymns only angels knew the lyrics to. His skin was the color of molasses—a stark contrast to his tan linen clothes—and his heart was bigger than he was. I sat beside him, his brown eyes meeting my green ones, and he laughed that robust laugh that shook God's green earth to its core.

"How was your day, Pa?" I asked.

Pa—or Carlisle Masen to the rest of the world—wrapped his muscular arm around me and kissed me on the forehead. He responded the same way he always did. "I'm breathing, aren't I?"

That usually meant he got a lashin' for cursing or for trying to show off by having more bushels than the rest of the laborers. They were building machines to replace men, but not my father. Birmingham could say a lot of things about my Pa, but they couldn't claim he wasn't a hard worker. It was like he was made for picking, and everybody else just got in the way.

"Ma still couldn't find work this morning," I told him, rehashing the day's events. "I've been telling her I can—"

Pa shook his head, interrupting me. "Son, we've been down this road. Folks are killin' left and right out there. It isn't safe."

I glanced downward and his dark-colored, calloused hand covered mine. Ma always said I was the color of almond buttermilk, and I suppose I was. But to my Pa, I was just his.

" _You're my boy, Lincoln, and it's my job to protect you," he always said. "One day, you'll understand that when bullets go flying, it won't matter that you're yellow. You'll bleed like a Negro."_

My name's Edward Lincoln Masen, but to everyone else, I didn't even exist. White was white and black was black, and I fell somewhere in between. Ma and Pa kept me hidden since the day I was born. Sixteen years ago, folks were rioting and two mixed babies were burned alive, right in town. Since Ma was pregnant and feared for her life and mine, they concealed me from that day foreword.

In a way, I knew they were justified in keeping me hidden. Every now and then, bitter townspeople would travel right to the outskirts of Birmingham just to throw bricks through our windows. They said it wasn't right for a white woman to marry a Negro, and they showed their disapproval with violence. It didn't bother Pa. He kept on collecting the bricks and just outside their bedroom, he'd built a small fort. It wasn't complete, and though it would be a good hiding spot, I wasn't so sure I wanted it to be finished.

"Carlisle, Lincoln, supper's ready!" Ma called our names from the kitchen as Pa rubbed my head and glared at my buzzed haircut.

"You cut it again," he said, frowning. My tightly curled, bronzed mane was shaved to a centimeter of its life. One day, when I broke out of those four walls, I wanted folks to see me as white. Maybe, just maybe, I'd get away with it and walk into town without anybody noticing.

I remembered asking Dad when I was younger why I didn't have thick, kinky hair like him, or eyes that were as rustic as God's soil.

"' _Cause you're a mixture of everything good from me and your ma," he'd said. "Don't let anybody ever tell you different. You're a Masen through and through, Son."_

For the time being, I just shrugged. "Getting too hot outside, Pa."

He nodded, but he and I both knew. He didn't say anything else, so I followed him down the tiny, narrow hall into the yellow kitchen, where Ma was setting the table. Our house wasn't big at all, the pipes leaked, and the floor was ready to cave in at a moment's notice. In fact, it only had one bedroom. I slept on the sofa some nights, and others in the old, oversized dumbwaiter in the kitchen. After a lifetime of hiding, it didn't matter where I slept. If someone ever found me, I'd just be dead.

"Smells good, honey," Pa said, licking his lips. He snuck a piece of fatback into his mouth and gave Ma a passionate kiss. The world was stuck on race, but in my house, we were color-blind. Ma smiled, her green eyes twinkling. If there was anything she loved, it was Pa and cooking. We couldn't afford a lot, but Pa made sure he kept food on the table and a roof over our heads.

Ma tucked a blonde strand behind her ear and sat down with us. She spooned out large portions of beans and ham hocks, and we ate as if there was no tomorrow.

"I tried, Carlisle," Ma said in the middle of drinking her sweet tea. "There's nothing available. Since the Smith's moved, there's no one else to do housework for."

Pa didn't really want Ma to work, but she was so insistent on helping with the bills that he'd agree with anything just to make her happy. We rented from Harry, one of the few people who actually liked my parents, but I knew we were falling behind.

"Joe said a new family moved into town. You might want to try them," Pa offered. "I bet they'd be willing to hire you."

Ma got all excited, and I kind of hoped she'd talk so much she'd forget the rest of her food. "Who are they? Do they live on one of those big plantations? Do they have kids? I can be a nanny too!"

Pa laughed as he wiped his mouth. "Calm down, Esme. I'm not sure. Joe just told me their last name was Swan. The man bought one of the textile factories, so I reckon they've got money. I think he said they lived near Dry Creek Road."

Ma grinned happily and I crept my fingers along the kitchen table, inching my way to her food. She paused and slapped me with her spoon. "Cut it out, Lincoln. There's more in the pot."

"I'll call Sue tonight. I'm sure she knows about those Swans already and I'm going over there tomorrow, first thing!" she continued. "I bet they're looking for help. I just know it. I can feel it in my bones."

"Can I come?"

I tried to sneak my way into the conversation and Pa stopped chewing mid-bite. "Lincoln."

"Pa."

" _Lincoln_."

I hated the way he said my name like that. He couldn't keep me locked up forever. One of those days I was going to see the world and read books other than Ma's Bible, and maybe even work. Or be in school like normal folks. I'd do anything to get out of the house.

I tried sneaking out once a few years earlier. I got halfway down the road and saw a car and high-tailed it back home, my heart pounding while I prayed at the same time. I told Ma what I did and after she stopped crying, she beat me. She asked me why I was trying to commit suicide and I told her living there all by my lonesome was killing me, and she cried all over again.

Her guilt was enough to keep me inside, but it didn't stop me from thinking about what was out there.

I just wanted to be free.

.

.

.

"Lincoln."

I stirred in the uncomfortable space, my cheek pressed against my knee. A loud knock rumbled in my ear and I tried to tune it out.

"Edward Lincoln!"

 _Go away._

"Lincoln, I can see your sock poking out."

I stifled a tired chuckle from behind the rotting wood of the dumbwaiter and pushed the small door downward. Peeking out, I smiled sheepishly as Ma stood in front of me, holding out her hand to help me out. My feet hit the linoleum floor as she shook her head.

"I told you we'd get you a bed," she complained, wiping the sleep out of my eye. I grumbled, shoving her hand away.

"And put it where, Ma? I'm fine. 'Sides, I like being in the kitchen. It's closer to the fridge."

Ma laughed. "You're gonna eat me out of house and home."

"I'm making it my personal mission," I joked. Yawning, I stretched my arms and noticed Ma wearing her Sunday dress. "Are you leaving already?"

"It's after seven. I want to be at the Swans' first before other women start showing up. It's slim pickings around here."

I glanced around, knowing Pa was already gone. Embry Call came, and every morning they rode to the fields together, long before the birds chirped and wildflowers bloomed.

Sulking, I brushed my way past Ma and trudged down the hall. As I used the bathroom and washed my face, I tried to plan my day in my head. I could catch up on some reading, or actually help Ma around the house and clean. Or, if I was feeling brave, I could slip outside and check on how the tomatoes were growing. If I was lucky, I'd find that little bunny rabbit and her babies.

"Lincoln." Mom knocked on the door and I opened it, brushing my teeth in front of the mirror. She stood behind me, her hands on my shoulder. Anybody with two eyes would be able to tell I was her son, and it was only my skin tone that made me different.

"I know you're upset I'm leaving," she began, "but maybe I'll be able to find some work. You know how hard it's been around here."

I knew that and deep down I understood, but I hated being alone. I felt abandoned. It wasn't right, a 16-year-old begging for his Ma to stay home with him, but I didn't know anything else. Sure, I'd seen a few people around when I peeked through the walls, like Harry and Pa's friend Embry, and even Ma's best friends Sue and Billy, but no one my own age. I'd never played ball with a friend or met a girl or talked to another teen … hell, it was pathetic. And depressing. Mostly just depressing.

"I'll be quick," Ma tried to soothe me, noticing the expression on my face. "They might not even need a housekeeper. They'll probably dismiss me…"

"They won't," I told her, trying to make her feel better. "If they're half as blessed as I am, they'd be lucky to have you."

I gave her a half-smile and shut off the light, walking past her. I searched through the sparse food in the fridge and finally settled on the pitcher of lemonade. I was pouring a glass when Ma appeared beside me.

"I know this is hard, but one day it won't be like this. Times are a'changing, Lincoln. Just you wait and see."

I nodded, saying nothing as she kissed me on the side of my temple.

"Keep the curtains closed," she said, giving me orders I'd heard my entire life. "And if you go outside, make sure no one else is around. And don't turn on too many lights. And—"

"Ma! I got it. I'll be fine. I'm going to go check on the tomatoes." Irritated, I took a sip of my drink, trying to ignore her.

"Okay honey. I'll see you later. Love you."

Ma was nearly out the door when she snapped her fingers. "Oops. Almost forgot my recommendation letter from the Smiths."

She turned back towards her bedroom, muttering to herself as my heart pounded heavily.

 _What if I didn't have to stay here?_

 _What if I could go out, if only for a little bit?_

 _What's the worst that could happen?_

 _Everything,_ I told myself.

I could hear Ma rummaging in the back as the seconds ticked by on the antique clock. I could do this. I could sneak out. She wouldn't even know. All I had to do was hide in the bed of our Chevy and she would be none the wiser.

Before I could stop myself, I raced towards the front door, opening it as quietly as I could. I winced as the old wood creaked, but shut it behind me. The rusted Chevy was parked on the side of the house and I nearly jumped off the front porch, rocks flying beneath my sock-covered feet. I glanced back momentarily, but Ma was nowhere to be found.

Using the tire for leverage, I hoisted myself into the back of the truck and crouched down. Pa's tarp was laid across the metal bed and I used it to cover myself. Remnants of bark from wood lay scattered, poking me on my side.

It didn't matter. I had made it out.

The blistering sun heated the truck and my skin burned when it touched the ridges. I heard Ma slam the door and shout, "I love you" as she made her way to her vehicle.

Inhaling the scent of wood, I tried to breathe slowly as Ma climbed inside and the engine roared to life.

 _What was I doing?_

I was going to get caught. This was not good. I should climb out. I needed to climb out.

But it was too late.

The truck started moving and for the second time in sixteen years, I was off of our property.

Except this time, there was no running back.


	3. Revealed

**Chapter Three: Revealed**

" _Once exposed, a secret loses all its power."_

 _~ Ann Aguirre_

 _(IPOV)_

"…And do you know what he said to me, Mother? No. That black fool told me no, that he wasn't serving me vodka in my orange juice!" I winced as my mother, Renee Swan, removed pink rollers from my mahogany and brunette hair. The curls bounced back into place as I complained about Jenks, our incompetent butler.

"They would have never said such a thing in Alexandria!" I continued ranting, staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror. Mother nodded empathetically at my criticism of coloreds in the South. I missed Virginia, where they had respect at least. And I missed my friends, the air, and our nice home. Everything in Birmingham was dry and boring. I hated it already.

"You've got to be patient, Scarlett," Mother said, her brown eyes staring into mine. "It's his first week."

"You're not going to do _anything_?" I asked incredulously.

"I will," she assured me. "But I've got bigger matters to worry about. I'm interviewing housekeepers today and the movers have yet to unpack all of the boxes."

"Fine," I muttered, dabbing a light pale pink lipstick across my lips. "But this is _not_ over."

Mother tied a ribbon in my hair and I stood up, brushing down the pleats of my floral dress. The sunlight pierced through my large but sparse bedroom. Most of my belongings had yet to be unpacked, and stacks of boxes sat untouched in the corner. I stared longingly at my best friend Angela's photo. We were together from birth on up, for 16 long years, before my selfish father and his booming factory business ripped us apart. He was going to have to spend a lot of money to earn my forgiveness.

Mother kissed me on the cheek, smelling of her expensive lilac perfume, and left me by myself. Since it was summer, school was not in session and I'd be lucky if I met any friends in that horrid town. Well, they'd be lucky if they met me. Anyone who had the pleasure of meeting Scarlett Isabella Swan was the fortunate one, indeed.

Slipping on my heels, I walked out of my room and down the grand staircase. Jenks was waiting at the bottom and I scowled at him. The old man had to be at least 100, and he had already dirtied and wrinkled the formal black uniform Mother bought for him. His dark skin and gray hair stood out against the once prim, white shirt.

 _Typical darkie,_ I thought. _So damn ungrateful._

"Jenks!" I said in a high-pitched voice, snapping my fingers. "Vodka in a glass of orange juice, now! Tell me no again and Father will beat your ass until it bleeds!"

"Y-yes, Miss Scarlett." Jenks stuttered and scampered off towards the kitchen. The stairs led directly to one of the formal living rooms and each floor was made of marble. I followed behind him but turned left to the dining room, where I sat in one of the chairs. A breakfast feast had been laid out and I immediately reached for the fruit salad. Besides Mother's footsteps in the foyer, the house was quiet. Father left early every morning to supervise his factories and we had yet to hire outside workers for the lawn and pool.

I chewed in silence until the doorbell rang. Mother squealed and clapped her hands, dashing into the dining room.

"How do I look?" She touched her bun timidly, but not a single hair was out of place.

"Perfect as always," I complimented her. She nodded and rushed towards the front door just as Jenks brought me my drink on a silver tray. I took a sip as he remained still, unmoving.

"Well, don't just stand there," I scolded him with a flick of my wrist. "Go be nosy. Tell me what that begging Negro at the door looks like."

I had to hand it to him. No matter how much I berated him or his kind, Jenks never batted an eye. Father said it was because Jenks knew where he belonged. Blacks knew their place and if they valued their lives, they kept quiet. Jenks must have wanted to live, considering how old he was.

Jenks peeked around the corner and I heard a female voice in the background.

"Well?" I hissed.

"She's white," Jenks whispered, looking surprised.

"White? You're lying!" I dropped my fork on my plate and shooed him to the side so I could peek around the corner. Sure enough, that house Negro was telling the truth.

Seated across from Mother was a woman about her age, dressed in a worn dress and scuffed shoes. She had blonde hair and green eyes and her knee bounced nervously. _Why on earth would someone like me want to do a black's job?_

"Do you know her?" I asked, making sure to keep my voice low.

"Looks familiar, Miss Scarlett. I believe she worked for the neighboring family I did 'fore they moved."

I scoffed. "Why is she working at all? Doesn't her husband have a job?"

Jenks swallowed, glancing away. I could tell by his body language he was hiding something.

"Jenks."

Jenks cleared his throat. "Her husband works, I reckon. But he's, uh …"

"He's what? Poor? Disabled? Sick in the head?"

Jenks paused and something flickered in his eyes. "Poor, Miss Scarlett. He's poor."

"Oh." Jenks suddenly acted as if he had errands to do, walking away while I stared at the unfortunate woman talking to Mother. I made my way quietly to the window that faced the front entrance of our driveway. There was a rusty truck sitting there, sticking out amongst the greenery and fancy estates. I thought nothing of it, but there was a slight movement in the bed of the truck.

Pausing, I gazed harder, but it must have been my imagination.

I turned to finish my breakfast, and there it was again. There was definitely something in her truck.

A dog, perhaps? Why would she leave her animal in this heat? I wasn't too fond of animals, but I wasn't one to let them suffer either.

"Scarlett? Scarlett Isabella?" Mother called my name and I sighed, taking my time as my heels clicked against the floor. The blonde woman turned towards me as Mother made the introductions.

"Esme Masen, this is my lovely daughter, Scarlett. Her hair was as red as could be the day she was born."

I blushed as Esme held out her hand. I shook it lightly. Even though she was white, she was considered the help, and she would receive no greater respect than that.

"Pleasure to meet you, Esme. Can you do hair? And iron clothes? I prefer my garments to be pressed. And I will need assistance getting dressed in the morning. I hate to ruin my nails."

"Yes," she said too eagerly. "Why, of course. I'm a seamstress as well as a housekeeper. I can cook as well and look after children too."

"I don't need looking after," I said rudely. "I'm 16 years old. I'm not a child!"

Esme's face turned pale. "Of course. I apologize. I meant for any little ones you might have, Mrs. Swan."

"Scarlett is our only daughter," Mother responded politely. "Quite the firecracker, but she gets it from her father, I suppose. Oh, and we have a butler, Jenks, who works here as well. He's as black as the night sky, and only been here a week, so if you see him doing anything out of order, you'll tell me immediately. I don't doubt he'd stick his hands in my jewelry box. We whites have to stick together."

Esme glanced down and nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Well, Esme, I think that means you have the job. Everything you've shown me looks legitimate. You'll get paid by the week and—"

"Do you have any pets?" I interrupted, looking out of the window suspiciously.

"No ma'am."

"Hmph."

Mother rolled her eyes at my irrelevant question and told Esme she'd give her a tour. I stalled until they left the room and then snuck out of the front door. Mother's luxury black car shined in the driveway, but Esme's vehicle stuck out like a sore thumb. I stepped cautiously down the steps of our white manor that had a wrap-around porch. The shrubbery was filled with colorful flowers that bloomed despite the sweltering heat. The closer I walked to the truck, the more sure I became that something was lurking in it.

A tarp covered the entire bed and it lay completely still. My heart pounded frantically in my chest. I hoped it wasn't a snake slithering around. I was petrified of those slimy things and the last thing I wanted was to get bit.

I took a deep breath.

 _Please don't let it be a snake._

I froze momentarily, debating if I should leave. I had a bad habit of sticking my nose where it didn't belong and it usually got me into trouble. On the other hand, if this Esme woman had secrets, it _was_ my business and I'd be doing my parents a favor.

Gripping the heavy plastic in my hands, I tossed it backwards until it folded onto the other half.

And I gasped.

Crouched into the corner was a boy, his head tucked and his knees bent up to his chin. Bits of bark stuck to his ragged clothing and he wore no shoes, just dirty white socks. Since he protected his face I couldn't see his features, but his head was shaved completely bald.

His skin was the most unique shade I'd ever seen. He was white, but with a deep tan that must have come from Alabama's radiating sun.

He moved slightly, trembling because I'd discovered him.

"Who are you?" I asked, annoyed that he wouldn't just sit up already.

The boy said nothing and I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Since you won't speak, I suppose I should ask Esme Masen then."

"Wait." A timid, deep voice spoke beneath the covered limbs and a pair of eyes peeked between his arms. "Please don't. She doesn't know I'm here."

Slowly, the boy let down his arms and sat up, though still crouched down low. He had a strong jaw and facial features, but it was his eyes that stood out the most. They were green like Esme's—which meant he must have been kin—but more emerald in color.

They were mesmerizing.

I'd never thought this about a poor person before, but he was … beautiful.

He didn't seem like the fragile child he was at first glance, and I noticed how he purposely bent his body to make himself appear smaller. He had to be my age, or close to it.

"What's your name?" I asked him. "What are you doing hiding in here?"

He swallowed, as if it were taking all of his strength to answer me. I waited impatiently, tapping my heel against the pavement.

"Edward Lincoln Masen," he finally said.

"Well Edward Lincoln Masen, I suppose that's your mother in my house interviewing for a job," I told him, putting the pieces together. "But that doesn't explain why you're hiding outside like a criminal."

"Because I am one."

Dread crept into my chest as I wondered if he was an escapee from a prison across the state. Maybe Esme was hiding him. Maybe she was a criminal herself.

 _Maybe, maybe, maybe._

Before I could let my thoughts run wild, he spoke again. "Ma doesn't know I'm here. Please don't say anything."

His eyes pleaded more than his words ever could.

"Well that depends, Edward—"

"Lincoln," he interjected. "I go by Lincoln. It was my grandfather's name."

"All right, Lincoln. Tell me your crime and then I'll decide whether or not to rat you out."

"I—"

"Scarlett! Scarlett!" Mother waved from the front porch. "Come in honey! You need to taste Esme's lemonade! It's divine!"

I yelled back that I was coming. I worried that Mother might be concerned that I was hanging near Esme's truck, but she just turned around and shut the door without saying another word.

"I'm going in, Lincoln," I taunted him. "Confess what you did and why you're hiding."

"It's not my fault," he whispered.

I laughed out loud. That's exactly what a criminal would say. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and he looked so scared. I almost felt bad for him.

"What did you do?" I repeated, exasperated that he was dragging this out.

"Nothing," he mouthed and tears slipped from his eyes. "I was born."

I don't know what made me do it, but my eyes lifted to the second story window where Jenks was staring at us from above.

I glanced at Jenks, then back at Lincoln's tanned skin, then back to Jenks again.

The curtain closed and my mouth suddenly felt dry.

 _Lincoln was …_

 _Which meant Esme …_

 _And Lincoln's father must have been like Jenks …_

I almost threw up on the pavement. I almost ran inside and told Mother who she was hiring and what was in the back of the truck. I almost looked for Jenks and whipped him for lying to me and I almost exposed Lincoln exactly for who he was.

But I didn't.

Maybe it was because I had knowledge that gave me the upper hand or maybe it was because I felt pity. No, it definitely wasn't the latter. I felt no pity for Negroes, no matter how pale their skin was.

But I was curious.

I reached for the tarp and whispered to Lincoln, "Your mother got the job. Come with her tomorrow."

His eyes widened and I pulled the tarp over him as if he never existed.


	4. Strings

**Chapter Four: Strings**

" _Defining myself, as opposed to being defined by others, is one of the most difficult challenges I face."_

 _~Carol Moseley-Braun_

 _(EPOV)_

I hyperventilated all the way home, while Ma unlocked the front door, and even as I ran to the backyard. My lungs couldn't decide between taking short breaths and giving up altogether. My knees hit the soft ground and I collapsed.

 _Scarlett._

She was pretty, with brown eyes and wearing a dress it would have taken Ma years to earn enough to buy. Her hair was shiny, the kind I imagined rich folks would have, but she was pretentious too. I could tell by the way she spoke, by how proper she was in her speech. I knew she would turn me in, I just knew it … and then she didn't.

I think she figured out I wasn't white, but for some reason she didn't say anything. She looked at me funny, the way our landlord Harry did sometimes when he saw Ma and Pa hugging, but she didn't say a word—except that she wanted to see me tomorrow.

What did that mean? Was it a trap? Was she going to tell her folks? Or the police?

I shouldn't have gone.

I don't know how she knew I was in the truck, but she did. It could have been from me wriggling around, but it was hot as hell and I could barely breathe in the stale air. It didn't matter now. She found me and if I didn't do as she said, she would out me—if she hadn't already.

"Lincoln! I'm home!"

Ma called my name from inside the house and I figured I'd better go in before she noticed me acting suspicious. I dusted myself off and walked through the back door, plastering a fake smile on my face.

"How'd it go?" I asked as she placed her purse on the table.

"I got the job, Lincoln! Oh, you should have seen their home! It was beaut—" Ma paused, noticing my flushed cheeks. "Have you been outside this whole time? You'll have a heat stroke honey. Drink some water!"

I nodded, grabbing a streaked glass and turning on the faucet while Ma continued rambling. "Mrs. Swan—Renee's her first name—is delightful. She showed me their whole house and she pays real good too. They have a butler there, but he acted kind of skittish. I don't know what his problem was. Hopefully he was just shy. And they have a daughter, Scarlett. Mrs. Swan said she's 16, just like you. Moved all the way from Virginia, they did. Mr. Swan wasn't home, but Mrs. Swan told me he owns factories all up and down the east coast. They make curtains and clothes and bedsheets and everything! No wonder they've got all that money!"

I gulped my water while Ma gave me all the details. Scarlett was an only child. They had family in the next town over, but they didn't see them very often. Mrs. Swan loved desserts and anything sweet. Mr. Swan bought them everything they wanted and they had fine china Ma had never seen before.

"Are they racist?" I cut in, setting my glass on the counter.

"They …" Ma hesitated and sighed. "Who isn't, Lincoln? You know I can't tell everyone our business. 'Sides, they're likely to find out about Carlisle and I the second they walk into town. Folks are aching to gossip around here. I'll have to beg and plead just to keep my job. Until then, we need the money."

Ma only confirmed my fears. Scarlett was probably no better than her parents. She'd tell on me for sure. I wasn't going back over there, no matter how pretty she was.

"I'm making lunch. You want some, sweetie?"

I shook my head and Ma shrugged as she whistled around the kitchen, too happy to deal with my sulky, teenage mood. I walked past her to go outside, where I dug up Pa's stale cigarettes from underneath the porch. He claimed he didn't smoke, but I'd seen him and Embry light up a few now and again. Using a pack of old matches, I stuck a light and pulled on the filter.

I coughed slightly as I swung my legs back and forth off of the porch that had no railing. It was peaceful out there, even if the sun was cooking me from the inside out. It gave me time to think about Ma and her new job, how it would help Pa, and how I'd be all by myself again.

 _You don't have to be_ , I told myself.

I didn't. I could sneak out and meet the racist girl with the racist family and have us all killed.

 _Or she could be my friend._

That thought made me laugh darkly. We couldn't be friends. She was white and I was black. She was rich and I was poor. She was a girl and I was a boy. She was born to live and I was born to die. We were as different as day and night, and no amount of well-wishing would change that.

Taking one last puff, I crushed the butt and flicked it into the overgrown backyard. I steadied myself on my feet and walked back into the house, where Ma was making sandwiches. She had one prepared for me, but I shook my head.

"Not hungry, Ma. Can I lie down in your bed?"

She looked at me, concerned. "Sure, sweetie. Are you sick?"

"Tired. Heat and all," I said softly.

"I'll put this in the fridge for you. I might go over to Sue's later, so if you wake up and I'm gone, that's where I'll be."

I nodded once and trailed down the hall into their bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, I curled up into a ball, my mind filled with thoughts that drove me nearly mad. Finally I drifted asleep, tossing and turning as the sky darkened outside.

.

.

.

"Lincoln."

I was being moved back and forth against my will and my cheek touched something wet.

"Lincoln, wake up."

Pa stood over me in the dim light, pulling his shirt down over his muscular shoulders. "I'm leaving in a few minutes. Wanted to see if you were feeling better."

I yawned groggily, sitting up and wiping the drool from my face. "What time is it?"

"After five. I'm headed to work."

"In the morning?" I squinted to see the clock on the dresser and sure enough, it read a few minutes after five. Pa had to be to work by six, but he and Embry liked to get there early.

"Yep. Your Ma is asleep on the sofa. She said you were sick. You feeling better?" he asked, sitting next to me and touching my forehead. Pa's skin was always hot, so I wasn't sure exactly what he expected to accomplish by touching my head.

"Yeah, just tired that's all."

"Smoking my Slims will do that to you," Pa chuckled, tossing the crumbled pack my way. "You left these on the porch, Son. Don't let your ma catch you."

I grimaced because I'd been caught, but Pa just laughed again. "I got you a new pack. They're under the bottom step. Stretch them out. I don't have money to buy some every day."

"Right. Thanks, Pa."

Pa grinned and rubbed his wide hand over my scalp. "I know you're upset Esme got that new job, but it'll be good for us. You'll see."

"I know …" I trailed off as he watched me struggle to say what was on my mind. "Um, Pa? Did you ever consider what would happen to me once I grew up?"

Pa's eyebrows scrunched together and he tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"I'm getting bigger and older. What happens when I can't fit between the walls anymore? What happens when someone catches me?"

"That's not gonna happen," he reassured me confidently. "You're safe here. And as for growing up, well, there're folks every day fighting for freedom. That's the day I'm waiting on. When you can walk outside and not be shot or hung or hurt for the color of your skin. It'll come, Lincoln. It just takes patience."

"So you think blacks won't have to work for whites anymore?"

"I do. They say we're free now, but we're not really. We can't buy our own homes, we can't own businesses, we can't vote. But that will change. One day you'll be an adult, Lincoln, and you'll know a world I only dreamed of. You'll marry who you want, live where you want, work where you want. That's the world you deserve to live in. I don't want anything less for you."

"I don't get it," I said, frustrated. "Why is it worse for me than it is for you?"

"'Cause you represent fear and love, Son. See, white folks, they're scared of us. And what do you do with something you're scared of? You control it. You dangle it on strings like a puppet. That way, you can anticipate its next move. But when you're mixed—when you're both the puppeteer and the puppet—well, folks don't know what to do with folks like that. They don't know which side you're on."

"And the love part?" I questioned.

"You're love in a world full of hate. You're this example of unity that's questioning the system and what people thought was right. You're pushing folks together when the rest of the world wants 'em apart." Pa sighed and put his arm around me. "I don't ever want you to pick sides. You're not black and you're not white. You're Lincoln. And if your Ma catches you smoking, you'll be blue and purple all over. Now go back to bed."

I chuckled and Pa kissed my forehead. He finished putting on his boots and turned off the light. I couldn't go back to sleep, though. Ma was due to be at work at seven and my mind was made up.

I was going to see Scarlett.

.

.

.

I kissed Ma goodbye while she searched for purse I had hidden. By the time she found it, I was already in the bed of the truck. I internally kicked myself for not dressing nicer, but it wasn't like I had anything to wear. Pa's clothes were big and hung loosely on me, so I was stuck in the same beige shirt and trousers I always wore. At least I wore shoes that day.

The ride to the Swans' was bumpy and Ma had trouble with the stick shift. She'd jerk and break and I'd slide forward and back. The heat was just as bad as the day before. When she finally parked the truck, I hesitated on what to do.

I reckoned I would wait for Scarlett.

Or a noose, depending on if she told anyone.

I brushed the wood chips from my clothes as much as I could without moving too much. After about ten minutes, the tarp flew off of me and Scarlett stood hovering in the bright sun.

I breathed heavily, waiting to see if anyone was behind her, but she was by herself.

"There's an old treehouse in the woods behind our home. Wait five minutes and then make a run for it. I'm not walking with you. If you get caught, you're on your own."

She let the tarp back down without another word. I did as she said and counted every second with pounding heartbeats. When I got to 300, I peeked to make sure no one was around. When the coast was clear, I ran for my life through the side of her yard, past the enormous pool and small white building, and into the woods.

Pa's oversized loafers slid as I sprinted over dead leaves and broken branches. Seeing the treehouse in the distance, I continued my speed until I reached the rickety stairs. Rusted nails were secured into an old oak tree trunk, but it didn't collapse as I originally thought. I climbed to the top and finally, there she was.

Sitting with her legs tucked to the side, Scarlett was perched casually as she flipped through an old book. I wiped the sweat from my brow and sat across from her. She had a blanket sprawled out, but it was very clean and I supposed she had gotten it from inside her home.

"Took you long enough."

I glanced at her in bewilderment and she laughed. There was something about it too, the way her whole body shook and her head fell back while her mouth fell open.

"I'm being sarcastic," she groaned, rolling her eyes. I didn't understand her humor, so I sat as far away as possible and brushed off my clothes.

She wore another one of her fancy dresses, but it was pale yellow with a lot of lines. Plaid, I think. It didn't matter. She was even prettier than the day before.

We sat in silence and I stared out the tiny circular hole of a window. The treehouse was almost half a mile from her estate, and I wondered how she'd found it.

"I discovered this when I walked around while my parents were signing the mortgage papers," Scarlett said, reading my mind. "It was one of the reasons I actually liked this house. My old one didn't have this. Kind of cool, I guess. Mother and Father don't even know it's back here."

I nodded nervously. I had a million questions. Did she have a nickname? Did she like being an only child? Why didn't she tell on me?

Finally, I settled on the last one and bravely asked her.

"Well … I knew that Negro Jenks—that's our butler—knew something about your mother, but he acted ignorant like he always does. I suppose you could say this is more about me having collateral over him than you."

That wasn't the answer I was expecting and I frowned. Ma was right—they were racist. I could tell by the way the words spewed from her mouth. They dripped with hatred and intolerance for those who differed from her.

Mainly, me.

"Just because he's black doesn't mean he's ignorant," I said.

As soon as my defiance left my lips, I covered my hands over my mouth. What was I thinking? I couldn't talk to her like that! My heart beat erratically but Scarlett just laughed again.

"Oh my, the skunk has a backbone!" she giggled to herself.

 _Skunk?_ I stared at her in confusion.

"Because you're black and white!"

I shifted uneasily. It wasn't that I was expecting her to be nice, but I wasn't expecting that either. Why was she like that? Were her parents worse? I didn't want to stick around and find out.

I put my hands on the edge of the make-shift entrance, prepared to climb out.

"Oh come on," she said half-heartedly. "Don't tell me you're offended. I'm sure people call you all sorts of names. You've got to be used to it by now."

"No," I replied quietly. "Nobody calls me anything."

"Not at school or church or at the market?"

I shook my head. "Scarlett, no one knows I exist. Just you."

Her jaw grew slack and she opened her mouth and closed it again. For once, she was speechless. She gazed at me in shock, trying to determine whether or not I was joking.

I wasn't.

"It's illegal to mix races," I explained. "Didn't you know that?"

"I … no …" Scarlett stumbled over her words. "I'm from Virginia. It's frowned upon … gross, even …and people don't do that where I'm from, but it's not illegal."

"Really?" When she nodded, I scowled internally. Why couldn't my parents just move there? Why hide me like an animal in a locked cage when I could be free? Was it just Birmingham? Or all of Alabama? Or just the deep southern states?

"Don't get me wrong, I think you're an abomination. I have half the heart to tell my parents your mother had a black man and a mixed son, but only because we don't believe in stuff like that. I didn't know it was illegal."

My heart dropped. Now she did know. I was scared she was going to tell on me, this time to the authorities, but she smiled.

"Lucky for you, I like secrets. And I'm curious. Mother calls it nosy, but I beg to differ. What's it like? Do you feel white or black? Do you wish you were one or the other? Is your father around or did he leave like a colored man would? Do you have any Skunk siblings?"

She wouldn't stop talking and every question was more prejudiced than the last. All of her jabbering started to stress me out. I pulled out the cigarettes Pa gave me and lit one up.

She stared in awe as she watched me puff.

"I'm blue and purple," I replied.

"Blue and purple?" she repeated.

"The colors I'll be if Ma catches me up here smoking with a white girl," I joked and when Scarlett threw back her head in laughter, all I saw were red and brown curls dancing in the summer sun.


	5. Conflicted

**Chapter Five: Conflicted**

" _She starched and ironed her face, forming it into just what people wanted to see..."_

 _~ Zora Neale Hurston_

 _(IPOV)_

"Father!"

"My beautiful Scarlett!" Charles Swan, my tall, mustached father, lifted me into the air and swung me in a circle. _I hope he can't smell Lincoln's cigarette smoke on me._ His perfectly gelled hair was combed over to the side and he wore one of his many business suits. He was a prominent, powerful man who owned factories that made him extremely wealthy, but I was the apple of his eye. Father always bought me gifts and today was no exception.

"Charles." Father kissed Mother on both cheeks, as formal as always. I'd never seen them show much affection to each other, but that's just how they were. They loved each other, of course. After all, they were married. Anything else was their business.

I eyed the large, blue box with a white ribbon on the floor next to his briefcase. "What did you get me?"

"Only the best," he winked and I squealed, picking up the box with glee. I walked into the living room and placed the box down on the white sofa, unraveling the ribbon in a hurry. I lifted the lid, tossed the wrapping paper behind me in a whirl, and gasped.

I pulled out my newest possession: a long, gray mink coat. The material felt soft beneath my fingers and I tried it on immediately, the expensive price tag still dangling from the sleeve.

"Oh it's gorgeous, Father," I gushed. "Thank you!"

I spun in circles as Mother raised an eyebrow. "It's a little warm down here for her to be wearing fur, don't you think?"

"Mother, you don't know anything about style," I reprimanded her. "It's the latest fashion. Don't be jealous."

Mother muttered under her breath, "You spoil her, Charles."

"And rightfully so," Father grinned. "Anything for my little girl."

I smiled victoriously and shouted for the butler. "Jenks!"

Jenks appeared from another room, his white-gloved hands folded.

"Place this in my closet and hang it up properly," I ordered him, shrugging out of the coat. "And keep your gloves on. I don't want your filthy paws touching my things."

"Yes, Miss Scarlett." Jenks carefully carried the coat upstairs, walking dramatically slow so that it didn't touch the floor.

Mother raised an eyebrow at my language, but Father didn't bat an eye. I'd seen him treat the colored help much worse.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Mother clapped her hands together. "I hired a new housekeeper yesterday! She is absolutely wonderful! Wait until you meet her!"

"Is she here?" Father asked, glancing around.

"No," Mother answered. "She's only working from 7 to 4 on weekdays."

 _Crap._ I didn't know Esme's hours. That meant I wouldn't get to see Lincoln on the weekends. It was only Tuesday, which meant he could only come over three more times this week. Not that it mattered, but still. I would never admit I enjoyed his company so much. He was a funny creature, much different than I expected, but in a good way. He certainly held his ground, especially for someone who had no contact with the outside world.

"But wait until you hear this," Mother continued with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. "She's _white_ , Charles! As pale as an onion on a May Monday morning."

"What's a white woman doing working?" Father asked suspiciously. "Doesn't she have a husband?"

"Her name is Esme and yes, she does. But, I suppose they need the extra money. Not everyone can be rich like you darling."

"I suppose not," Father replied with a chuckle. "Very well then. As long as you're happy, then I'm happy."

"I am. Her raspberry tart is to die for!" Mother licked her lips just thinking about the dessert sitting in the fridge.

"I have good news as well," Father added. "My brother James is coming over next week to visit the factories with me. He's bringing the whole family from Meadow Hills."

I grumbled under my breath. "The whole family" meant my uncle would bring his prissy wife, Victoria, and their three children. Alice, who was 17, I didn't mind at all, as we were always happy to see one another. But Jasper, who was 15, and Jessica, who was nine, were a pain in my ass. Jasper was a prankster who failed to see why his jokes weren't funny and Jessica was a busybody.

I got the sinking feeling that since they would be arriving, my time with Lincoln would decrease significantly. Unless there was a way I could work around it. I would figure something out.

"Wonderful. Now that we're in Alabama, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other," Mother smiled happily. "It was so lonely in Virginia."

 _For you,_ I thought wryly. Maybe one day I could convince Father to allow Angela to come down and see me. It was his fault I had no friends in Birmingham.

Well, not quite. Lincoln wasn't a friend, but he wasn't _not_ a friend either. I didn't know how to label him yet. It was a blurry line. He wasn't what I thought a colored person would be like. He was much more laid back and if I tried to boss him around like Jenks, he wasn't having any of it.

It was cool in a way.

Oh, and he smoked.

That was definitely cool.

.

.

.

"Scarlett! Are you ready?"

"Coming Mother!" I yelled from the top of the stairs. Jenks stumbled slowly in front of me, carrying a load of boxes.

"Hurry up, maggot!" I blew underneath my breath, pushing him slightly to the side and flying down the stairs.

Since we moved, there were a lot of clothing and household items Mother didn't want anymore. She said she was donating them to the local store in town where they sold them for cheap. I would never buy a second-hand used item, but Mother said it looked good for our family to donate to the unfortunate. I think it was just so she had an excuse to go shopping for new stuff.

Mother and I sat in the car while Jenks loaded the trunk and backseat. Once he was finished, he shut the door and Mother drove off.

"Is he not coming to help?" I asked her, buckling my seatbelt.

"For goodness sakes, Scarlett," she chastised me, steering the wheel to the right. "You can lift a box. It won't kill you."

I begged to disagree.

We lived in a gated community, but the iron gates were never really closed. I think they just kept it up for appearances. The further we drove into the city, however, the shabbier and filthier the buildings became. Negros walked along one side of the street and the whites walked along the other. There were "Whites Only" signs plastered in store windows, and many coloreds waited at bus stops in crowds.

"Mother, why do so many of them ride the buses?" I asked, staring in awe. "Where are their cars?"

"They're poor, dear. Most can't afford such luxuries."

"Why don't they work like Father? Are they that lazy?" I couldn't figure out why they wanted to ride some dirty, overcrowded bus instead of working to buy a vehicle.

"They do work, Scarlett. But they don't get paid enough."

I couldn't stop asking questions. Now that I had met Lincoln, I wanted to know everything about him and his kind. "Why don't they just get a better paying job?"

Mother sighed as we came to a halt at a stop light. "It doesn't work like that. Blacks can't own businesses, therefore they are owned by whites like us. To keep businesses booming and their profits high, they pay very little to their workers, which are usually the coloreds. They will work for next to nothing because they need to. Most of the children don't even attend school. They have to work to support their families."

Well that was just so … so …

 _Unfair?_

No, not unfair. I was absolutely sure no Negro would be able to manage a business, even if he was given one. He'd probably steal left and right. So I understood it completely. But what about people like Lincoln? He was black, sort of. I couldn't imagine he would steal anything. He seemed honest, or at least I thought he did.

Mother started driving again and I peered out of the window. "What if they were mixed? What then?"

"You mean if they were biracial?" Mother questioned. "They're still considered colored to most people, honey. You remember Ms. Betty, your old nanny when you were just a tot? She was biracial."

"Really?" Ms. Betty was a sweet older woman, but I didn't know that about her.

"Sure was. It wasn't so bad in Virginia, but in these deep southern states, it's illegal. I don't know how they manage to keep up with who's birthing who and what color. Too much fuss if you ask me."

I nodded, but I kept thinking about Ms. Betty. She was much darker than Lincoln, with a caramel complexion. I would have never known she was a skunk.

 _Skunk._ I don't know why, but even saying the word in my head made me feel conflicted. Not wrong, but just … uneasy. I remembered how Lincoln's expression changed when I called him that. It wasn't a mean term, I was just describing him, but I don't think he liked it.

"We're here." Mother interrupted my thoughts as she parked in front of a crumbling, brick building with streaked windows and signs posted for sales.

We were definitely on the colored side of town and as I climbed out of the front seat and shut the door, we received curious looks from those around us. Mother began unloading boxes and handed me two. After she had an armful, I followed behind her as she walked through the open front door. There was no air conditioning, just fans circulating hot air around us.

A colored woman, clothed in a blue dress with short, black hair, greeted us from behind the counter. "Welcome to the Olden Golden Thrift Shop. Let me take that from you."

She approached Mother and lifted the heavy boxes with ease, setting them on the floor. Next, she removed my load and when her skin brushed against mine, I flinched.

"What are y'all donating today?" she asked warmly.

"There's some clothing and small vases and lamps. I have a few picture frames in the trunk as well," Mother responded.

"I'll be happy to get those for you. I'm Nessie, by the way. Pleasure to meet you." She extended her hand and I watched in shock as Mother shook it.

I took a step backwards and folded mine so she wouldn't try the same with me. I didn't want to touch her. I didn't know what diseases she had.

"I'm Renee. It's nice to meet you as well. Do you mind if I look around?"

"Not at all." Nessie left as Mother circled the shop looking at various pieces of furniture.

"Mother," I hissed under my breath. "I thought you said blacks couldn't own businesses?"

"For goodness sakes, Scarlett. They don't. Even the small shops are owned by white men. Sometimes they'll come in to manage, other times they don't. You sure are asking a lot of questions today."

Technically I had one more, like why did she shake that woman's hand, but I decided I'd bothered her enough for one evening. I walked up and down the crowded aisles, glancing at this and that until I arrived the counter with jewelry locked behind a clear case. The trinkets were old and probably not real gold or silver, but they looked interesting at least. I bent down, admiring the pretty rings when I saw a sparkle that caught my eye.

"See something you like?"

I jumped at the startling voice and saw Nessie behind me. "Um, yeah. Can I look at the necklace on the second row?"

Navigating around the counter, she pulled out her keys and unlocked the glass case. "This?"

The open velvet box was not pristine black and had pieces of lint all over it. However, the necklace inside was long with a skunk pendant on the end. One side was completely flat, but the front was intricately carved and detailed the animal exactly.

"This was donated by an older fellow a few years back," Nessie explained. "It's in very good condition and it's actually made of silver. It was a gift from his wife and after she passed, he couldn't bear to hold on to it any longer. The tall tales say that the skunk is actually a spirit animal that represents protection. You see, the skunk is not an aggressive animal. It's very passive, but to protect itself, it sprays. Which, if you've ever smelled one, you know how awful it is!"

Nessie laughed and I touched the etched lines. "Protection from what?"

"Protection from anything. Predators usually stray away because they know what the skunk is capable of. It avoids conflict, but it has a courage that only shows itself when needed."

I assessed the trinket once more. "I wish it were in color."

Nessie shook her head. "I'm glad it's not. Do you see how you're admiring the details? You wouldn't be able to see the beauty in it if all you saw was black and white."

"Scarlett? Are you ready to go?" Mother appeared beside me and I gestured to the jewelry.

"Can I get this?"

"Sure honey." Mother patted her side, realizing her purse was in the car. "I'm sorry, I forgot my wallet outside."

"Don't worry about it," Nessie smiled. "It's yours to keep."

"No really, I can't do that," Mother protested. "Let me pay you."

"You donated some beautiful items that will surely sell. It's been sitting here awhile anyways. It's yours."

Nessie pushed the box to my side and I held it gently in my hands. "Thank you."

"No problem. Y'all have a wonderful day."

We said our goodbyes and I wondered if Lincoln would like the present I got for him.

.

.

.

"A skunk? You bought me a skunk."

Lincoln appeared less than enthusiastic about my gift the following Wednesday morning. We were sprawled out in the tree house and I had remembered to bring snacks and drinks. Sipping on a juice box, I watched as he dangled the necklace in front of him, frowning.

"No, it's not like that," I argued, frustrated by his reaction. "The saleslady said it meant protection and passiveness and courage."

"So you think I'm passive?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I think you're stronger than you look," I replied, and that seemed to appease him.

"Okay, well, thank you—I think."

"You're welcome." I took the necklace from him and tried to place it over his head, but my fingers barely brushed against the fine hairs when I jerked back and let the necklace fall the remainder of the way.

"You're so odd," he commented, shaking his head. Lincoln tucked the necklace inside his shirt and the outline pressed somewhere near his heart.

"Odd? How so?"

"You've made it very clear you dislike blacks, yet here you are buying me jewelry and hiding me out in your secret treehouse. But the second you get near me, you scoot away like I'll hurt you."

"I don't think you'll hurt me. You're passive, remember?" I jested.

"You know what I mean, Scarlett."

I shrugged and his green eyes watched me prudently. "I just don't want to get dirty."

"I'm not dirty. I do shower you know."

I sighed, not wanting to have the conversation. "I _don't_ know, okay? I just don't want your kind touching me, that's all. I might get germs on me and then get sick or something."

Lincoln scoffed at the term "your kind," but it didn't deter him in the slightest. "I'm the same as you. Go on, touch me."

I shook my head. "No."

"Touch me."

" _No."_

"Fine. I'll touch you then." Before I could jump away, Lincoln's hand was on my forearm. His hand was cool, despite the heat outside, and smooth. Faint green veins ran from his wrist up to his knuckles and his fingers were long and thin.

I started to tremble and Lincoln removed his hand. "See? You're not sick and you aren't dying. Nothing. Happened."

He was wrong. Something did happen. I felt the blood rush to my heart and the tumble in my stomach. I felt weird and tingly, and I wondered for the slightest bit of a fraction of a second—for a teeny, tiny moment—what it would feel like with his hand wrapped around my hand.

That's what made me ill. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Lincoln and I could never, ever, ever be more than the sort-of friends who met at the top of an old oak tree in the middle of the woods. Never.

That thought hurt more than it should have.

Tears slipped from my eyes and I felt vulnerable. Lincoln, not understanding my emotions, reached out for me and it made me cry even harder. I didn't want him to see me like this.

 _Crying over a Negro._

If Father could see me now, he'd be disgusted.

"Scarlett, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." He drew back his hand, looking aghast and sympathetic as I hiccupped and carried on.

I stood halfway on my feet, crouching as I tried to navigate around him. Placing my shaking feet on the first step of ladder, I wiped my face with one free hand. "I'll be back."

I didn't say anything else as I ran through the woods, my dress flying behind me. I ran and ran and ran. I don't remember how I got to the house so fast, or how I nearly knocked over Esme on my way upstairs. I don't recall slamming the bathroom door or how I peeled off my clothes so quickly. I don't know if the water burned or if it wasn't hot enough.

But I do know the amount of soap I used and the strength with which I scrubbed my entire body didn't make me feel any better.


	6. Acceptance

Cherry and Cinnynala: I asked God how am I supposed to know what friendship feels like. He ain't answer me but then you made me laugh and my sides hurt, my belly ached, and the pee came running down my legs. That's His way of letting me know its real, I reckon.

Readers:

"Go on," she said. "Write it out. They'll see what you're trying to do."

"And if they don't?" I asked.

"Even the blind can read, sug."

-Conversation with my heart

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Acceptance**

" _Every morning, until you dead in the ground, you gonna have to make this decision. You gonna have to ask yourself, "Am I gonna believe what them fools say about me today?"_

 _~Kathryn Stockett_

 _(EPOV)_

I stayed up all Wednesday night thinking about Scarlett. I shouldn't have touched her. She asked me not to and I did it anyways. I just wanted to … I don't know what I wanted. Besides Ma, I'd never had physical contact with another female. It felt nice until she burst into tears and after that, it took almost two hours for her to return. She was dressed differently, even smelled different. When I asked her about it, she just shrugged me off. We didn't talk much, just comments here and there, and it was awkward.

I didn't go with Ma on Thursday. It took everything in me not to hide in the truck, but I didn't. I thought Scarlett needed space from me, that we were hanging out too much, too soon. I craved the interaction with her and every second of the day, I thought about what she was doing.

I didn't think she missed me, but I missed her.

Years of loneliness and solidarity could do that to a person.

By the time Ma came home, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I hugged her tightly as soon as she walked through the door and she laughed.

"Goodness! I guess I'm getting all the love today!" I let her go so she could place her purse down, and then I followed her into the kitchen. I handed her a cup of water while she sat down, visibly exhausted.

"How was your day today?" I asked anxiously.

"Good," she nodded, pausing to take a sip. "I'm tired though. Mrs. Swan's daughter barely left my side today."

"Scarlett?" I questioned too eagerly.

"Er, yeah," Ma answered, shocked I remembered her name. "Usually she disappears for hours at a time, but she followed me around asking all sorts of questions."

"About what?"

Ma shrugged. "I don't know. About random information, I guess. Where we lived, what my husband was like, if I had any children."

I sat in the empty chair across from Ma, tucking one leg beneath me. "What did you tell her?"

"I was vague about some details, you know that. Besides, I think she just wanted the company. She seemed sort of sad. I forgot school was out. That child hasn't made any new friends down here."

 _She has a friend,_ I wanted to say. But I remained quiet.

"Besides," Ma continued, "she's going to have to get adjusted to life in Birmingham first. You should see the way she treats their poor butler, Jenks. Negro this, darkie that. Mrs. Swan can be prejudice to a degree, but oh my soul! And Mr. Swan? I finally met him and I can see the apple doesn't fall far the tree. He nearly beat Jenks in front of me just for spilling a pitcher of tea. Even if you were ever allowed to be in public, Edward, I would never accept you socializing with people like that. They're rude, racist, and close-minded. Lord, help that child. She never stood a chance with a father like Charles Swan. The bigotry runs through her veins."

I wanted to defend Scarlett's honor, but I couldn't. One, because Ma couldn't know that I knew her, and two, because everything she said was true.

"I'm just preparing myself for next week," Ma sighed. "They've got family coming in which means more cleaning for me."

"Family?" I didn't remember Scarlett mentioning her kin.

"James something or the other from Mr. Swan's side. I can't remember. I'm going to spend all day tomorrow decorating and cleaning the guest rooms. I'm going to sleep, honey. I'm all talked out for the day. If I'm not awake by the time your father gets home, tell him there's left over stew in the fridge."

Ma struggled to her feet and trudged her way to the bedroom. I heard her collapse on the bed without even changing out of her uniform first.

Sighing because I was by myself once again, I cleaned the already orderly house and heated up the stew for Pa and myself. By the time I was pulling bowls out of the cabinet, Pa arrived home.

"How was your day, Pa?"

"I'm breathing, aren't I?" he chuckled, wrapping me into a hug. He smelled outdoorsy and a layer of sweat coated his face.

"Ma said she was exhausted and lay down. I warmed up some stew for us." I set our places and when I dropped a spoon, I leaned over to pick it up.

"Hey, whatcha got there?" Pa pointed at the necklace around my neck and I froze in fear.

"Oh … uh, this thing? I, um, found it. Outside," I mumbled, stumbling over my words. "In the ground. In the dirt to be exact. Probably some old, ancient thing no one wanted. Since it was outside and all. And, uh, old."

Pa laughed and held his hands up defensively. "Hey now, I wasn't gonna take it from you. I was just wondering, that's all."

I gulped and breathed unevenly as I rushed to the sink to rinse off the spoon. Pa waited for me so he could say grace and when he was done, we dug into our meal. We slurped and chewed loudly, until Pa finally spoke up.

"There's a rally coming up," he said slowly, as if he was unsure he wanted to tell me. "Protestors and such, scheduled for a month from now."

"You going?"

I tried to be nonchalant about the whole matter, but Pa saw the gleam in my eye. It wouldn't be the first time Birmingham had a march or rally from what he'd told me, but it would be the first time I'd be old enough to fully understand.

Pa nodded. "Gotta demonstrate for my son's rights. Of course I'm going. But, it's dangerous out there. Last time they had one was four years ago and folks got killed, beat, and hung. Police had the hoses spraying and it was a complete mess."

"Maybe we could—"

"No."

He wouldn't even give me a chance to state my case. "Pa, just listen. Biracial babies aren't illegal everywhere. If I go, no one will even know—"

Pa glared at me so hard I thought he might smack the black outta me. Or white. I wasn't sure which half he was mad at.

"How do you know that?"

There was no way I could tell him about the truck and sneaking out and Scarlett. I racked my brain for a lie, and a believable one at that. "I heard the neighbors talking…"

"Edward Lincoln!" Pa slammed his fist on the table and scowled.

 _Yep, he's definitely pissed at the black side. The white part of me would know better._

"You know you can't go that far out! What if someone saw you? What if they called the police, or worse? What if they decided to hurt you or take matters into their own hands? You've got to think, Son!"

"I am thinking!" I argued defiantly. "I'm thinking it's not illegal in states like Virginia, yet here I am, hiding in holes like a scared rat! Is that all I am to you, Pa? Vermin?"

"We ain't got the money to leave…" Pa sighed and rubbed the sides of his head. "And you know that's not true."

"Isn't it? _'Here's some cheese, Lincoln!'_ " I mocked, dangling a random carrot from my stew. " _'Go on, now. Go back to your little vermin hole with your invisible vermin friends while the rest of us skedaddle about living and talking to real people!'_ "

I stood up, dropping the carrot back into the bowl. "I'm sick of it, Pa. I want to go out! I want to meet people and see the city and walk the streets. I want to be human, Pa. All I ever do is talk to you and Ma. I'm bored and I'm lonely and … and …"

I had become so frustrated and angry I didn't realize a tear had dropped out of my eye. Pa sat in agony, watching me pour out my soul.

"Let's go," he said with a stone-faced expression.

"W-what?" I don't think I heard him correctly. I wiped my face and sniffled.

"Let's go. You want to go out, so we will. Get in the truck." Pa stood up and before I could protest, he walked into the living room and grabbed Ma's keys from beside her purse.

In all of my sixteen years, I'd never seen my father appear the way he did then. His eyes were dead, like my words had sucked everything from them.

God was going to make me pay for that. The day Carlisle Masen's light stopped shining was the day thunder would roll and the sky would crack open.

I didn't know if he was being sarcastic or not, but when he held the front door open for me, I knew it was actually happening.

I was going to be free.

I'd been in the front yard of course, but never through the front door—at least not with his permission. My heart beat faster than my body could keep up with and I trembled as I crossed the threshold. It was only about six or so, and the sun was still up before it would trade places with the moon. I squinted as the door shut and bounced behind me.

As if I'd been doing this my whole life, I walked to the truck. The nearest house was a ways away, but it didn't stop me from glancing from side-to-side nervously. Pa didn't even bother to pacify me. He climbed into the driver's side and when I reached the passenger door, he started the engine. It came to life, rumbling and shaking as if it were opposing the trip we were about to make.

I closed my door and Pa pulled out of the driveway, silently staring daggers out of the front window. I rolled my passenger window down, turning the handle in slow circles as I felt the breeze on my face.

 _This was living!_

I smelled the Alabama air and gazed in awe at the animals and farmhouses we passed. I inhaled the tobacco fields and ached to touch the cotton thorns. It was everything I ever dreamed, but better.

So much better.

The further we drove, the closer we got to the city. I could tell because the noises became louder, the homes turned into large buildings, and people were visibly walking.

Pa drove and turned a right here, and steered a left there, and finally parked in an alley. I squinted as people carried on about their day. Black folks walked on one side and whites on another. Sometimes a white person went to the left side, and even then it was only because they had to, but not once did a black cross over to the right.

"Go ahead, Lincoln," Pa finally said. "Walk. You want to walk and be amongst people. So do it."

I think he was trying to call my bluff, but I was so excited I paid him no mind. I opened the door and let it slam shut with an enthusiastic bang. He was worried over nothing.

I wasn't dressed properly and those stupid loafers slid over the black pavement. I took a step on the sidewalk, right beneath a stop sign. I glanced up and down the street, wondering which side I should take.

 _White._

A family of four was approaching, holding a small dog on a leash, but I held my head up confidently. _You're one of them. Blend in. You have every right to be here as they do. What does Ma call it? Window shopping? Yeah, that's it. You're window shopping._

My knees wobbled I was so nervous. I thought about Scarlett. _How would Scarlett act? What would she say?_

 _Skunk._

 _Your kind._

 _Ignorant._

 _Abomination._

Well, that wasn't helping. Scarlett was just mean. I didn't think any color would claim her for an example.

Taking a deep breath, I took a step. And then another. And then another.

I walked towards the family, debating if I should say hello or nothing at all. Should I make eye contact?

 _No, don't do that. Nobody likes a creepy person._

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right.

 _I was doing it!_

I turned around to give Pa a thumbs up and didn't realize the family was passing by me. The little dog started barking and I accidently bumped into the father. I was knocked several steps back, mostly because of his shoving hand.

 _Shit._

The man glared and barked at me louder than his dog ever could. "Fuckin' blackie! Watch where you're going! You need me to sell you down the river, boy? Get your bumper-lipped, ugly ass outta here you burnt toast nig—"

I raced across the street before he could finish, dodging an oncoming car. I gasped for air, holding my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath.

There were blacks sitting in a local diner, staring back at me through the glass. It wasn't until I saw my reflection in the window that I realized my mistake.

My hair.

What seemed shaved as of yesterday were now tiny tuffs of curled ringlets on my head. I swallowed, a large lump forming in my throat from the mix of adrenaline and pure fear.

But I wasn't giving up. I had to prove to Pa that I could make it on my own. Knowing he was still watching, I stood up, brushing off my wrinkled clothes.

I walked bravely into the diner, and it seemed like every pair of eyes were on me.

No, they definitely were.

A large black man with grease smeared on his apron stared at me from behind the counter. "You lost, Son?"

"No, sir. I, uh, just needed to rest a second."

"Not in here, you don't," he retorted, swinging a dishrag over his shoulder. "It ain't safe for crackers. Folks see a ghost in this eatery and they'll tear you apart, white bread. Best you head over to your side where you belong."

"But sir—"

"Did you hear me, mayonnaise? I ain't asking for no trouble. Now get out!"

I stumbled backwards, falling out of the door as if it were more than his words that had pushed me. A crowd of teenagers—four, maybe five—passed by, gaping in surprise that someone my color was on their turf.

"Looks like pasty's done traveled on the wrong side of the road," one of them laughed.

"Whatcha doing over here, honky?" a bigger one mocked. I assumed he was the leader. He towered over the others and stepped towards me until he was directly in my face. Another boy pushed me from behind.

I tried to leave, to walk away, but I was being shoved from all directions. Bystanders looked on, no one interfering or coming to my aide.

"Cut it out!" I yelled.

They cackled and hooted and before I could react, a swift blow hit my right eye. I held up my hands, but it was no use as my vision blurred before me. A nauseous wave that cramped my stomach caused me to double over, while a sharp pain swept across my jaw. The punches came, each one quicker and harder than the last. I heard the slight rasp of my shirt ripping, gripped by a dark hand covered in my own blood. I fell to the ground and a thick soled boot kicked me right in the ribs.

I couldn't tell if I was crying or screaming—probably both—when I heard Pa's voice yelling. I squeezed my one good eye shut and the hits stopped. Curse words filled the air and Pa lifted me up, cradling me in his arms.

"Son, can you hear me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Teardrops fell onto my cheek from above and before I succumbed to darkness, I thought that life on the outside wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

.

.

.

"Oh, my baby!"

My shoulder ached tremendously, but Ma shook it with no regard to my pain.

"Damn it, Carlisle! How could you? Why would you do this? What the hell is wrong with you?"

I moaned and tried unsuccessfully to pry my right eye open.

No such luck.

It was still blurry in my left, but that was better than nothing. Although the last thing I expected to see was Ma beating Pa with her fists against his chest.

"They could have killed him!" she shrieked. "Do you even know what I was thinking? I woke up and both of you were gone! I didn't know if you had died or gotten locked up or the truck broke down in a ditch somewhere …"

"Ma, you're being irrational. The truck has at least another hundred miles left before it dies."

My attempt at humor only caused Ma to cry. She crouched down beside me, holding and rocking me. "My baby …"

"Lincoln, I-I'm sorry." Pa paced back and forth, distressed because he was the cause of my brawl. _No, not brawl. I got my ass kicked, plain and simple._ "I was parked in a no parking zone and this officer comes out of nowhere to give me a ticket. By the time I saw you it was too late."

Ma turned and stared angrily at Pa. "You got a ticket?"

"Hello? Ice? Aspirin? Anyone?" I rolled my eyes and attempted to turn the conversation back to me. I moaned again and Ma finally stood up to go retrieve medicine.

"Lincoln—" Pa attempted to apologize but I shook my head.

"Don't. You were right. I don't belong anywhere. I would've gotten killed out there if you hadn't saved me, so thanks. There's a reason you protected me the way you have. I see that now."

It was a hard truth I finally had to see for myself.

"I didn't want you to learn a lesson like that, Son."

"No," I said, shaking my head against the sofa cushion. "Probably not. But now I can stop wondering and dreaming. Now I know. I'm too dark to be white and too light to be black."

"Lincoln—"

Pa reached out for me and I winced, sitting up. "No. I understand now."

"Understand what?" Ma asked.

I took the two white pills she offered me and gulped them down with the glass of water. I handed the cup back to her and grabbed the bag of ice. I stood up slowly, brushing off Ma's helping hand.

"I understand life. I understand what it's like to live 16 years in a hole, wishing there was some way I could get out. I know what it's like to pray and hope and wish and ask God for some kind of mercy. I prayed Pa. I prayed harder than any boy my age ought to. But you know what I discovered? I can't pray my way outta my own skin."

Ma choked on her tears and before she could decide on whether to collapse or hit Pa again, I left the room, heading towards the kitchen. I pulled on the handle of the dumbwaiter, climbed in, and shut the door closed.

With the bag of ice pressed against my face, I curled into a ball and fell asleep.

It was easier in there, safer even. I was exactly where I belonged.

.

.

.

"What happened to you?"

Scarlett stared at me in panic, alarm written all over her face. "Did your father—"

I rolled my left eye, but that hurt like hell so I just shook my head. "No, Scarlett. My Pa didn't beat me!"

"Oh."

I sighed and leaned against the rotting wood, too hurt and tired to argue with her. I think she sensed my irritation because she sat quietly for a moment, folding and unfolding the hem of her dress.

"Sorry," I said, apologizing. "I'm not mad at you. I had a rough day yesterday that's all."

"Want to talk about it?"

 _No._

But she actually looked concerned and before I knew it, I had rehashed every detail of yesterday's fight. She gasped at the appropriate times and even flinched when I told her about the kick to my ribs. By the end, she had covered her mouth with her hand.

"That's awful, Lincoln. I'm so sorry that happened to you!"

"Yeah, me too," I muttered, although I think my pride was hurt more than my eye. I was ashamed I couldn't defend myself and even more ashamed Scarlett saw the evidence of my weakness.

I cringed, trying to get comfortable on the hard wood and Scarlett put her hand under the blanket. I wondered what she was doing when she finally reached for me, covered with the soft material. She attempted to prop me up, but I was in no condition to be moved. Hiding in the truck, running through her backyard, and climbing up the tree proved to be too much this morning.

"Well, this is silly," she said, huffing.

"What?" I smirked. "You only touching me when your hands are covered?"

"No, smartass," she grinned. "It's hot out here and it's obvious you're in pain. You should come inside. There's air conditioning and a soft bed and—"

"I'm sorry," I exclaimed. "I must have misheard you. Did you just invite me _inside_? Inside your house? Are you crazy? Are you _trying_ to get me killed? What part of ass-whooping did you not understand? Did I lose you at the blood spurting or was it the rib bruising? Oh wait, maybe you missed the 'swollen to a pulp' eye scene. Let me replay it for you again…"

"No one's home," she assured me. "Father's at work, Mother's meeting with people in the city about furniture, and Jenks is out grocery shopping. Esme's in charge of decorating the east wing so she'll be on the other side of the house. Besides, I'll get you in from the outside. No one will see us."

I mused it over for 3.5 seconds and then shook my head. "No way. Too dangerous."

Scarlett crouched towards the entrance and raised her eyebrow, waiting for me to take the bait.

"Fine. Sit in this heat bucket and cook for all I care. Don't expect me to move your lifeless body." Scarlett took one step down and smiled. "Hey, what happens to a black man after he dies?"

"I don't know."

"Negro-mortis."

Scarlett cackled and I shook my head in dismay. "You are the worst."

"I know. Now come on."

.

.

.

Scarlett's idea of getting me in included climbing the lattice outside of her window, balancing over a balcony, and sneaking in through her window. By the time I collapsed onto her cream-colored carpet, I was in excruciating pain.

It took several moments of holding my aching limbs before I appreciated my surroundings.

If I thought the outside of her home was grand, I was wrong. Scarlett's bedroom was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Shades of pristine whites, soft lavenders, and illuminating golds filled my sight. She had a bed the size of my entire living room, and even a sofa in the corner of the room.

There was something glass and sparkly that hung from her ceiling and I pointed. "What's that?"

She shrugged. "A chandelier? My, you haven't seen much, have you? Over here. You can lie down."

She offered no assistance in helping me stand but directed me to the large bed covered with flowered pillows and a silk comforter.

"You're going to let me lie on your bed?" I asked, surprised by her generosity.

"I don't mind. I'll have Jenks change the bedding after you leave."

 _Of course she would._

I stumbled to my feet, wobbling until I collapsed into a pile of ruffled layers.

Scarlett watched my every move, fascinated.

"Why are you staring?" I propped my head on the pillows, scooting myself into an upright position. She finally pulled a chair over and sat beside me.

"I'm just wondering," she mused, leaning over and propping her elbows on her knees. "It must be absolutely dreadful to not belong anywhere. At least if you were a full Negro, you would—"

"Scarlett."

"What?" She tilted her head, questioning my sudden change in mood.

"Just stop it, okay? I'm tired of talking about race and what color I am and what I'm not. Let's talk about something else."

Scarlett blinked, sighed, and then shifted in her seat. "Okay, what would you like to converse about?"

"I don't know," I replied. "Anything. What do you like to do? I like to read the Bible a lot. And sometimes Ma—"

"You can read?" she interrupted. "I thought coloreds were illiterate."

 _This was going to be harder than I thought._

I ignored her presumptuous notion and continued. "Yeah, one time Ma brought home all these books 'cause she said the library was renovating. I liked those. They were these fairy tales and my favorite was this story about the evil dragon …"

I jabbered on and on and Scarlett's eyes lit up about the knight who fell in love with a princess. She leaned in closer when I got to the part about the dragon torching the castle. My hands waved through the air dramatically and I told her how the entire kingdom rallied with the knight to defeat the raging monster and eventually, he married the princess.

By the time I had finished, Scarlett was two inches from me and she didn't even notice.


	7. Conqueror

**Chapter Seven: Conqueror**

" _People pay for what they do, and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it very simply; by the lives they lead."_

 _~James Baldwin_

 _(IPOV)_

"This isn't a good idea."

It was Monday morning and Esme had just arrived about an hour earlier, Lincoln in tow. He was sprawled across my bed, his blackened eye now a slight shade of a purple and his cheek not as swollen. In all, he had made great improvements, and he even seemed to be moving better.

Lincoln was wearing gray trousers and a soiled shirt that hung loosely on him. His once buzzed hair was longer, his bronzed curls out in full force, and I could tell he felt uncomfortable.

"Maybe I should go," he repeated nervously.

"You'll be fine," I assured him, straightening the bow in my hair. I pulled a skeleton key out of my lace blue dress and dangled it in front of him. "See this? I'll make sure it's locked at all times. No one can get in my room without it."

"But your kin—"

"Will be so busy fussing they won't even come upstairs."

I didn't say anything to Lincoln because I knew he'd leave in a heartbeat, but I was determined to have him meet my cousin Alice. She was going to lose her mind when she saw him!

Right on cue, a horn beeped outside. I ran to the window—where I had a slim view of the driveway—and pressed my face against the glass. Jessica had jumped out before Uncle James could even park. Her cankles wobbled in retaliation to the sudden movement and finally, she stumbled to the ground.

 _Sheesh. They really needed to stop feeding that child._

"Sit tight," I ordered him. "I'll be right back. I have to make an appearance."

Lincoln look bewildered, as if going anywhere was no longer an option.

I gave him one final smile and walked out of my bedroom, locking the door behind me. Jenks appeared out of nowhere, scaring me half to death.

"Jenks!" I stumbled into the wall, holding my chest. "Mercy, shouldn't you be downstairs doing … I don't know, Negro duties?"

"I'll be on my way, Miss Scarlett," he said, dipping his head. "I was just cleaning the room over yonder. Sure is thin walls in this house. You'd think they wouldn't be, it being so big and all. But it ain't so."

I rolled my eyes. I had no idea what he was blabbering about, nor did I care. I gestured for him to move it along and trailed behind him. He answered the doorbell just as it rang, and I stood beside Mother.

"Welcome to the Swan Estate," Jenks greeted them formally, stretching out his white gloved hand.

"Well, Renee, I have to say you've outdone yourself this time, you truly have!" Aunt Victoria crossed the threshold, removing her sunglasses.

"This old place?" Mother laughed a falsetto laugh of hers and waved off the compliment.

They were both full of it if you asked me.

"Aunt Renee!" Jessica ran—or should I say, wobbled—in next, her blubbering cheeks smeared with chocolate. She tackled Mother with a hug, smiling. Jasper strolled beside Alice, dressed in a fancy suit for no reason. Before I could say hi to Alice, he approached me holding out a bunch of flowers.

His blue eyes gleamed. "For you, cousin Scarlett."

"Oh, thank you," I replied, trying to be polite. When I bent down to smell the bouquet, a stream of water squirted me in the face.

Jasper burst into laughter while I fumed, dripping wet. "Why you little—"

"Jasper!" Aunt Victoria shook her head and Uncle James finally appeared, his hands full of luggage. He was well off, though not as much as Father, but I always remembered how fond he was of everyone. He declined Jenks' assistance with the suitcases.

"I think I've made it this far, wouldn't you say?" Uncle James laughed and plopped the suitcases on the floor. "Where's that favorite niece of mine?"

I wiped my face dry and grinned. "I'm your only niece!"

"And that's why you're my favorite," he cracked, wrapping me in a hug. "Sorry I can't stay long, Renee. Charles told me to meet him at his office."

"Well, you better get a move on." Mother hugged her brother-in-law while Jasper chased Jessica around in circles. "You know how Charles can be if you're late."

"That older brother of mine will have to hold his horses. Let me carry this luggage upstairs."

"No, no," Mother replied. "Jenks can get that for you."

"Let the man rest for goodness sakes!" James shook his head and refused Jenks' outreached arms.

Mother raised her eyebrows but directed him upstairs. "There're several rooms on the east wing."

Uncle James nodded and followed her directions, his hands full. Esme remained silent, pouring drinks and arranging hors d'oeuvres on platters. I grabbed Alice's hand and whispered in her ear. "Come on, I have something to show you!"

While Mother and Aunt Victoria gossiped, I dragged my older cousin up the steps. I made sure no one was around and unlocked the door to my bedroom. I practically shoved her inside and locked it again.

Lincoln was relaxed on the bed, but when he saw Alice he sat straight up, his eyes aghast.

Alice gasped. "You have a boy in your room?"

I grinned spitefully. "Not just any boy! A _Negro_ boy!"

I wiggled my eyebrows and Alice frowned. "You shouldn't call him that!"

Shrugging, I walked towards the bed. "Why not? That's what he is. Alice, I'd like you to meet Edward Lincoln Masen. Lincoln, this is my cousin Alice."

Lincoln appeared quite frightened, but Alice reached out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Lincoln."

 _What was it with people touching coloreds? Gross._

He gulped. "N-nice to meet you."

"Isn't he something?" I asked, nudging her. "He's biracial. Black and white and yellow all over! Mother doesn't know he's up here and you can't say a word!"

Alice nodded, her short dark curls bouncing. "I won't."

I watched in amazement as she sat on the bed right beside him. She didn't flinch or anything!

"So, Lincoln," she began, "do you live around here?"

I sat in the adjacent chair and told her the entire story. I explained how we met and the tree house and how he got beat up. Everything. "…And now you're the second person he's ever come into contact with. Isn't that incredible?"

"It's brave, that's what it is! I admire you," Alice gushed, turning to Lincoln. "It's a shame what's happened to you, if you want my opinion. My dad always said it shouldn't matter what color you are, that we're all the same."

"Hogwash!" I rolled my eyes at Alice. "You two are more different than a monkey and a zookeeper. And I think we can all agree on who is who!"

"SCARLETT!" Alice shouted at me in horror and Lincoln's gaze dropped down. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

Alice grabbed Lincoln's face, cupping his jaw with her hands. It was the first time I noticed his eyes were watering. _He wasn't … He couldn't be …_

But indeed he was. Two fat tears rolled down Lincoln's cheeks and Alice wrapped him in a hug. "You pay her no mind, Lincoln. I am honored to meet you and to know you. I think you're a handsome fella and I'd be ever so grateful to be your friend."

"Really?" Lincoln pulled back, wiping his face. Alice nodded and smiled.

Lincoln smiled back and I'd never seen anything like it. All of his teeth were showing and his eyes were beaming, filled with something I couldn't recognize. But I didn't like it, not one bit. Alice wouldn't stop touching him and their knees were propped next to each other.

My stomach did some weird flip-flop thing and my cheeks flushed with heat.

 _Who did she think she was?_

Lincoln was my little colored boy and there she was, acting holier-than-thou. I could make him smile too! He'd laughed with me before!

I didn't understand. Hadn't I been gracious to him? I'd given him food and drink and shelter and she hadn't done anything more than said a few words and that made them best friends? I'd had enough!

"Alice, I think you better—"

She ignored me and turned completely towards Lincoln, giggling and crossing her legs. "Have you ever played the whispering game?"

Lincoln shook his head. "Ain't never had no one to whisper to."

"It's fun. I used to play it with my brother Jasper all the time when we were younger. I whisper something in your ear, but it'll be really low so you have to try to decipher what I said, and vice versa."

"Okay." Lincoln looked slightly confused but waited. Alice brushed her cheek against his, murmuring in his ear. Her hair swept against his neck and he sloped forward to try to understand her words. Finally, she leaned back and smiled.

"What did I say?"

Lincoln scrunched his eyebrows together. "Leeches fake puns of pools?"

Alice burst into laughter, holding her mid-section as if she might explode. "No, I said teachers take tons of toadstools."

"But I don't know what that means."

Alice paused and grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I don't know either!"

Lincoln laughed so hard and so loud, he had to cover his mouth with his hand. It didn't matter. They were both carrying on as if it was the most hysterical thing either of them had ever heard.

Enough was enough.

I marched towards the bed, grabbed Alice by her arm without saying a word, and marched her into my adjacent bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

"What's your problem?" Alice asked, snatching her arm back.

"You are!" I hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing," she claimed innocently.

"No, you're in there joking with Lincoln!"

"So?" Alice dismissed me and twirled in front of the mirror, fluffing her hair. She puckered her lips and straightened her dress.

"Well, you can't! He's my Negro and—"

" _Your Negro?_ " Alice repeated my words in shock. "He's not _your_ anything! You can't own people, Scarlett! He's a human being."

"I can so!" I declared, stomping my foot. "I own Jenks, don't I? He'll do what I want when I want!"

"Yeah?" she taunted. "Well, you know what I think? I think you're jealous. I think you like Lincoln, but instead of just saying so you're acting all weird."

I inhaled sharply at her words. "You take that back right now, Alice! I mean it! I do not fancy a colored boy!"

"Fine. I guess you won't mind if I do. He is handsome, isn't he?" Alice smirked at me and kicked back her heel as she opened the bathroom door. Sashaying towards the bed, she sat so closely to Lincoln that one of her legs was stretched on top of his. She traced her thumb across his bottom lip and Lincoln glanced at me and then back at her. He swallowed, but wouldn't move.

"You ever kissed a girl before?" Alice cooed. She already knew the answer, but she was buttering him up like a fresh baked biscuit.

Lincoln was wide-eyed and so innocent it came off of him in waves. "Uh, j-just my Ma. I meant, not like that. Just, no, n-not a girl."

"Kissing is the best," Alice murmured loud enough for me to hear. "Imagine being so close to someone you can feel their heartbeat. It'll thump real hard, but fast, and you can breathe the other person's breath just as you lean in ever so slowly ..."

Alice ran her hand along Lincoln's jaw, touching the stubble that ran across his face. My nose flared and my mouth quivered. Unintelligible curse words flew out of my mouth, spewing everywhere like a volcano erupting. I was consumed with an anger I'd never felt before and I could sense my normally calm demeanor melting away as my face contorted into an expression of rage.

But my heart felt like it was being shred into irreparable fragments.

"Get out!" I yelled at Alice. "I want you to leave!"

"No," she replied calmly, still touching Lincoln. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Alice …" Lincoln leaned back, taking a deep breath. "I-I don't think this is right. I-I don't want to. I mean, not that you're not ... but I'm not—"

Lincoln gazed apologetically at Alice, unsure whether he was hurting her feelings. She just grinned. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to kiss you. I think my little cousin would be quite envious. Isn't that right, Scarlett?"

Lies. She was a liar of the worst kind. I wasn't jealous. I was … I was …

A lump formed in my throat and all that rage transformed into a broken ego. It poisoned my spirit, leaving nothing but a mist that covered me from the inside out.

Alice was intent on destroying what little part of me that was left standing. She provoked me, coming over and pushing my shuffling feet towards the bed. "You're jealous and you can't even touch him."

"I could so!" I cried.

Alice laughed mockingly. "Go on then, do it."

"I—" She didn't even give me a chance to respond. She stretched out my arm, leaving my fingers lingering just in front of Lincoln's face.

"Scarlett, you don't have to." Lincoln tried to save me, but he couldn't save me from myself. I trembled, sorrowed by just the thought of my skin touching his.

My finger inched another centimeter, delaying the inevitable. Seconds ticked by, the room completely silent as I struggled internally. Time was the opposite of a colored man; he couldn't be beat and he was never really mine to own.

Lincoln sighed, scooted off of the bed and away from me, and stood up. "Scarlett, you may not want my hands on you and that's fine. But I don't want to be touched either."

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, "I'm not a puppet," and stormed towards the window, lifting up the pane and climbing over the edge. I let him go without saying a word. I knew he was probably just going to the treehouse to be by himself, but I was angry with Alice for making him leave.

I turned towards her, accusing her with a pointed finger. "Why couldn't you just let it be?"

"Because," Alice grinned, "I call it like I see it. And you, dear cousin, have a crush on Lincoln."

.

.

.

Lincoln didn't come back the entire week. I didn't expect him to, not after the way I had treated him on Monday, but I still missed his company. I spent the rest of my days snatching food from Jessica, hiding from Jasper, and arguing with Alice.

Father came home early on Friday for my extended family's last supper. Esme had prepared a meal of braised lamb with herbs, red potatoes, and some green vegetables I couldn't identify. She passed out the plates as Jenks poured wine.

"This looks divine, Esme," Mother complimented her. "You've really outdone yourself."

"Thank you, Mrs. Swan," she replied.

Uncle James started a conversation with Father about his factories. "Absolutely booming business! Every time I think you can't get any richer, you do. How do you gain so much revenue?"

Father took a sip of wine before answering. "I keep my labor costs down, that's how. Negros around here will work for next to nothing."

Uncle James choked on his mouthful and swallowed without fully chewing. "Aren't you paying them the same as your white laborers?"

Father laughed. "Is that supposed to be a joke? Of course I don't pay them the same and they work twice as hard. They'll keep at it too because they know they can be replaced. It's all about the mighty dollar, little brother."

"The coloreds are fighting for equal rights in Washington, Charles. One day they'll change the laws and you'll lose every penny you ever made and then some."

Father didn't like being challenged and he placed his glass down. "You think those little nig—"

"Ahem." Mother cleared her throat, reminding Father there were children at the table. He glared, but changed his language.

"You think those Negros deserve equal pay? Absolutely not. They're uneducated, dumb as a box of rocks, and they're damn lucky I hired them at all."

I blinked at Father's blunt statement. They weren't dumb. Lincoln was really smart, even smarter than the boys I attended school with in Virginia. He could read and speak clearly and he was funny and …

My eyes trailed to Jenks, who hadn't moved a muscle. He remained quiet as expected, but his stoic expression ensured me he was listening to every word. His right foot shifted just barely to the left and I wondered how he felt about my father speaking about his kind in such a manner.

Surely it didn't bother him. He knew this was just how things were. But then I thought about Lincoln again and how ashamed he looked when I called him names.

It was heartbreaking.

"I'm telling you here and now, they are worthless, and I'll burn every last one of those cotton-pickers myself!" Father finished off his wine and gestured to our butler. "Jenks! More wine. Now!"

Jenks complied and picked up the wine bottle, carrying it towards Father. He poured it into Father's glass, but Father was anxious to take a sip before Jenks had finished. The alcohol spilled all over Father's expensive suit and across the white linen tablecloth.

Father roared and stood to his feet, yanking Jenks by his collar. "You fucking black dog! You did it on purpose, didn't you?"

Father slapped him across his face so hard it shook the entire table. Alice, Uncle James, and Aunt Victoria gasped at the same time.

"Charles, that's enough!" Uncle James warned.

Father only responded by punching Jenks, and his head swung to the side, the bleeding coming immediately as it gushed from his nose and mouth.

"Charles!" This time Uncle James raced from his chair and yanked my Father off of Jenks.

"Esme, go clean him up," Mother ordered her.

"Yes, ma'am." Esme wrapped her arm around Jenks, holding him upright as they left the dining room.

Father shrugged Uncle James off of him, straightened his suit, and sat back down. Mother wiped up the mess with her napkin as the rest of us remained shell-shocked.

"And that, James, is why you don't pay a Negro anything," Father snarled. "He's not worth the penny he begs for!"

For the first time in 16 years, I wondered if a colored man truly deserved to be treated in such a manner.

.

.

.

"Where have you been?"

Lincoln climbed through my window four days after the Jenks incident. Uncle James and the rest of the family had left immediately after supper, and I thought it would be a long time before we saw them again. Father didn't even tell his brother good-bye and I was sad to see them go.

"Oh, you know. Just traveling throughout the state, seeing whomever I please." Lincoln smirked and I was happy he was in a good mood.

"Smartass," I commented, sprawling out in the middle of the floor. "What's that in your hand?"

Lincoln handed me a book that was bound in leather and had worn edges. "This is the _Kingdom of Haitha_ , that story I told you about."

"Oh!" I flipped through the pages, admiring the illustrations of a far-away land with an immense castle and evil dragon. "Is this for me?"

Lincoln nodded, grinning. "You can't be the only one giving gifts, you know."

"But it's your favorite."

He shrugged, sitting across from me. "Consider it a peace offering. An apology, if you will."

"Apology?" I asked, closing the book. "Apology for what?"

"For leaving. For making you feel like you had to touch me. Everything, I reckon. You are obviously disgusted by me and it isn't right to make you feel uncomfortable. You're my friend and friends don't do that."

I was flabbergasted. He was apologizing to me when he hadn't done anything wrong. I should have been the one apologizing. I looked into Lincoln's green eyes and all I saw was Jenks.

Their images blurred together, switching back and forth in a constant shuffle.

My heartbeat quickened and I couldn't describe what I was feeling.

 _Shame?_

No. Yes.

Yes. I was feeling ashamed of how I had treated him and those spiteful words I had spewed. Lincoln was innocent, the most innocent person I'd ever met, and I'd done nothing but belittle him. He was black, sure, but he was also kind—much kinder to me than I deserved.

Instead, all I did was ask him a question. "We're friends?"

Lincoln shrugged. "I hope so. The only person who offered to be my friend was your cousin Alice and she's gone. I'd like to think we could be too. That's if, you want to."

My eyes narrowed. "This isn't some trick just to get back your book, is it?"

Lincoln rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. "You caught me. I'm risking my life in the blazing heat, climbing a hundred feet into the air to offer a book you never asked for, only to swindle you and take it back. Ladies and gentleman, offer the woman an award. Detective Scarlett has closed the case!"

I burst into a fit of giggles and Lincoln grinned sheepishly. "Okay, _friend_ , now that we're buds and all, what do you say to a game of Crazy Eights?"

"I've been locked up for almost two decades. You, Scarlett Swan, are going down!"

Edward Lincoln Masen was right.

He beat me three times that morning, fair and square. He gloated, like any boy would, and when the last card was laid down, he proclaimed victory by strutting around the room like an idiot.

I laughed so hard my sides started to hurt, I couldn't breathe, and all my sanity had flown out the window. I rolled over in hysterics and struggled to pull myself together only for him to start all over again. Lincoln puffed his chest out, placed his hands on his hips, and declared that the "Almighty Scarlett had fallen by the Knight of Spades."

"Care to surrender?" he taunted.

"Never!" I goaded, still giggling.

"Then we fight to the death!"

It was a blizzard of diamonds and hearts as masses of cards were thrown my way, cascading around me. I tossed them back, flinging the cards in rapid motion. Lincoln pretended to be defeated and fell to his untimely demise.

"Any last words?" I asked as I perched on my knees, hovering over him.

He grabbed his chest dramatically and heaved. "Yes … I … I want …"

I never found out the Knight of Spades' final request as he died heroically that fateful, glorious day.


	8. Swirled

**Chapter Eight: Swirled**

 _"I am an invisible man...I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids—and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me."_

 _~Ralph Ellison_

 _(EPOV)_

"I have a plan."

I glanced up from Scarlett's bed, gauged her expression, and then returned to my crossword puzzle. "No."

"Aw, shucks, you haven't even heard it." Scarlett pouted from her vanity chair as she tied a ribbon in her ponytail.

"It's coming from you, which means it's filled with schemes," I replied, chewing on the end of my pencil. "And I want no part of it."

"Hear me out," she continued. "We've been sitting in this room every day for almost a month. I'm bored. If we just went out into the city—"

I dropped my pencil. "No."

"You're such a dud."

"No, I'm a survivor and I'd like to live to a ripe old age, thank you very much."

"Don't you want to see what's out there?" Scarlett spun around in her chair and faced me. Her ponytail swung to the side and I tried not to stare at her glistening, pink lips.

"I have, remember? It almost got me killed." I shuddered at the memory and touched the faint hint of a bruise on my arm.

"That's because you did it wrong. If you went out there dressed like you are now, I would have pounded on you too."

"Gee, thanks," I replied sarcastically.

" _Lincoln_ …" Scarlett whined in that screeching, annoying voice of hers that usually got her what she wanted. "Please? If we dress you up, toss on a hat or something, you'd blend right in. We could walk down the street, get some ice cream, visit that new library …"

"I can't. You weren't there. You should've seen the looks I received. They wanted to slaughter me—blacks, whites, it didn't matter—and they almost did. I can't, Scarlett. As much as I want to, I can't."

Scarlett blew out an exasperated breath. "I'll be right back."

I ignored her and continued about with my puzzle. _Ten letter word for crazy …_

She returned a few minutes later, her hands filled with clothing. "I dug these out of Father's drawers. He doesn't wear casual clothes much, but I thought these would do. And this hat might just do the trick."

Aha! _Psycopath._ My crossword puzzle was almost complete.

"Lincoln."

"What?" I glanced up as Scarlett laid the items on the bed. "I said I wasn't going. Drop it already."

"You're not even going to try? Not even for me?" She batted her eyelashes and my heart sunk in my chest. "At least let me make you over. Just look at yourself first and then decide. Please? Please, just let me work my magic, and then if you still don't want to go, we'll stay here and I won't bother you ever again."

I highly doubted that. I tossed my pencil on the bed. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't the first time you've thought of this?"

Scarlett clapped and squealed. "Because it's not. Now, come on. Into the bathroom you go!"

She shooed me along and I trudged regrettably into her bathroom. She pointed and picked up several items. "This is hair gel. You need to get rid of those curls. Slick your hair to the side and comb it over."

I slapped a pile of the goo in my hair and tried to rub it in. Next I picked up the comb and ran it through my curls. My hair fought back with a vengeance and the comb got stuck in the middle.

"What are you doing? You need to part your hair! Part and slick! You're not even following my directions!"

"And you're being bossy," I retorted. "I can't do hair, I'm a guy."

Scarlett groaned and pointed to the toilet. "Sit down."

I did and Scarlett left again, this time returning with gloves. No, not gloves. Kitchen mitts.

"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered.

Being a shut in my whole life left me with limited options in regards to friends, but this was ridiculous.

I knew about her phobia, but I didn't understand it. I didn't think I ever would.

"Shush. Just sit still and wait until I'm done." Scarlett hummed under her breath and I sat unmoving as she tugged the comb through my hair. It hurt in some places, but she was actually trying to be gentle. Her dress constantly swayed against my arms and she was so close I could smell her floral scent.

There it was again; that tug and pull in my chest that ached for her. I remembered the first time I ever touched her arm, and how it felt to feel her on my fingertips. She made my throat swell and dry and anytime she got near me or smiled at me, the feeling only intensified.

I didn't know what to make of those feelings, so I enjoyed her proximity as much as possible. Closing my eyes, I endured the turning of my head, the pile of gel being dropped on my scalp, and the constant combing.

"There. Perfect." Scarlett stood back and admired her handiwork, dropping the mitts in the trash. I started to rise up but she told me to remain still as she retrieved the clothes from the bedroom. "Put these on. But don't look in the mirror yet."

I nodded and when she closed the door, I stripped off my worn clothes and Pa's hole-filled loafers. I made sure I was away from the bathroom sink and my fingers trembled when I slipped on the tweed trousers. They fit me perfectly at the waist.

By the time I finished, I was wearing a collared tan dress shirt, slim brown tie, and black dress shoes.

I had never in all of my life worn clothes like that. I felt … dignified. Lastly, I placed the fedora hat on my head and called out to Scarlett, "Finished!"

I listened as she opened the door. I turned around slowly and she gasped.

I blinked, but she didn't say anything. She just stared and stared until I started to feel uncomfortable. "What's wrong? Did I mess it up?"

She shook her head from side to side. "I, uh … you look … presentable. I mean, it'll work, I suppose."

Her cheeks flushed red and in the entire time I'd known Scarlett, I'd never seen her like that. Her eyes traveled up my body and then back down again. When we made eye contact, she turned to the side. "Go on. Look in the mirror. Best I could do with a Negro's hair and all. Don't expect any miracles."

And there it was. She was back to her rude, boorish self and I sighed.

I took a slow step in front of the sink and gazed at my appearance.

My lips curled into a cocky smile and I adjusted my tie.

I, Edward Lincoln Mason, looked _good._

Not just any good either. I looked white and handsome and everything a fella my age should be. All of my running and climbing over the past few weeks had given me a broad chest and muscular arms. I licked my lips, held my shoulders back, and strutted back and forth.

Scarlett huffed. "Get over yourself."

"No," I said, wriggling my eyebrows. "I'm dapper and you know it. I mean, look at me. Smooth. Stylish. Suave."

"Suave enough to go out?" she asked hopefully.

Sighing, I weighed my options. On the plus side, the makeover definitely helped, and I just might blend into society. But not knowing was a con. Reliving the hits and kicks and name-calling would not be worth it. I still had nightmares about that day. Every so often I'd wake up in the middle of the night, punching the still air in an attempt to defend myself from people that weren't even there. It was a sort of hell Scarlett didn't understand.

I glanced in the mirror again, this time comparing my skin tone to Scarlett's reflection. I was darker than her, no doubt about it, but it truly just looked like a summer tan.

Could we really do this?

Could I?

I caught Scarlett staring at me again and I grinned proudly at her.

"Are we talking chocolate ice cream or vanilla?"

She shrugged. "I prefer vanilla."

"Really? That's shocking," I commented, tipping my hat. "Scarlett, baby, I was beginning to think you liked it swirled."

Scarlett gasped at my brashness, picked up the nearest hairbrush, and threw it at me.

I laughed and laughed and even though she scowled, I saw the slightest hint of humor in those pretty brown eyes.

.

.

.

The walk into town wasn't long, but I panicked every step of the way. I froze every time a vehicle drove by, and sweated so bad I thought I was having a panic attack. Scarlett tried to keep my mind occupied by chatting about nonsense, but my thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

"It's going to be all right. No one's noticed anything. See? We're almost there."

Easy for her to say. She just pranced along like her life wasn't in danger. I had to remind myself to breathe and I had scratched my palm from digging my nails so hard. We'd reached the center of town, where patrons shopped and ran their daily errands. I swallowed as we stopped on a street corner, tall brick buildings surrounding us.

"I can't do this again." I tried breathing through my nose unsuccessfully and choked back the vomit that was rising from my stomach. I grabbed the metal of the "no parking" sign and leaned over to heave, but nothing came up.

"Lincoln?" Scarlett leaned over, concerned, as I debated high-tailing back to my safe place. I shouldn't have come out there. It was dangerous and I was playing cat-and-mouse with death. I knew who would win and it wasn't the yellow boy dressed in white folks' clothing.

"I can't. I-I—" I felt dizzy and my vision started to blur. My hands twitched, my knees wobbled and a deep ache filled every inch of my body. I inhaled small bouts of air, which hurt my lungs in every imaginable way.

"Calm down, just breathe." The bottom of Scarlett's white dress seemed to blur with the concrete and I had trouble focusing. I was going to die before anyone got the chance to do it themselves.

"Lincoln."

" _Lincoln."_

" _Lincoln."_

Scarlett's voice seemed far away, as if she were a distant memory. I swayed back and forth, unable to hold myself upright. One hand fell from the sign while I tried to gasp for oxygen.

A small, warm item was placed in my hand, trying to bring me back to reality. The object moved, slipping its way between my fingers. It felt soft and welcoming and I felt a faint heartbeat against my palm.

It squeezed again and again, as if its motion was pumping blood into my brain. I took a long, deep breath as Scarlett's soothing voice whispered in my ear.

"I'm here, okay? You're fine. Lincoln, you're fine."

A tingle rippled through me as I glanced at my hand.

It wasn't an object.

It was her.

Scarlett was holding my hand, gripping it tightly. My eyes traveled upward as I slowly tried to stand on my feet. I attempted to focus, blinking several times until her image was clear.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, too shocked to answer at that particular moment. She tried to slip her hand out of my grasp but I clung on to it like a lifeline. I embraced the warmth of her fingertips, the comfort of her touching me.

"Please," I whispered. "I can't … not yet …"

I understood the earth-shattering meaning behind this moment. I knew Scarlett would never, ever touch me, much less hold my hand so intimately. I understood how difficult it was for her to do this, just as it was difficult for me to breathe.

But she was doing it.

She'd laid aside all of her fears and disgust just to make me feel better.

"We need to move," she whispered. "People are starting to stare."

I glanced across the street on the "black side," where folks walking along were focused on us. I nodded, pulling myself together as I let go of the sign. Scarlett squeezed again, prompting me forward.

"One step at a time. See? That old woman in front of us isn't paying us any attention."

She was right. The lady had shopping bags in her hand and she breezed right by, not giving us a second glance. We walked several more feet, each step easier than the last, as a couple smiled and continued about their way.

We were doing it. We were actually doing it!

I never in my wildest dreams thought it was possible.

Scarlett glanced up at me, grinning. "Are you going to tell me I'm a genius now or would you like to wait until later?"

I knew she was kidding, but I couldn't believe her hand was still wrapped in mine. "Scarlett, uh, you don't have to, you know …"

I gestured down to our hands between us and she brushed me off. "Well, I can't have you fainting on me again, now can I? I _knew_ you would wuss out. Such a typical guy. I mean, I knew you were a scaredy-cat, but my goodness. This will go down in weakling history …"

Scarlett rambled on, degrading me and calling me a loser with every sentence that flew from her mouth. I smiled to myself.

Maybe, just maybe, she actually wanted to hold my hand. It was a stretch and perhaps I was asking too much from the universe, but I savored the moment, whatever her reasons.

"The ice cream shoppe," Scarlett nodded, coming to a halt. The Frozen Spoon had images of ice cream cones on their window, but there was one sign taped to the glass. _Whites Only_. Scarlett smiled and opened the door. A bell dinged as she stepped through the entrance and guided me to the counter, where a young white man greeted us. He had a cone shaped hat on his head and wore a red and white striped shirt.

Several patrons were seated and they peeked at us momentarily before returning to their conversations.

"Welcome to The Frozen Spoon," he said cheerfully. "What can I get for you today?"

"Two swirled cones," Scarlett answered, winking at me as we stood at the counter.

"You got it." Scarlett dug money out of her small purse and paid for the ice cream. The fella turned around to make our cones and I trembled nervously.

"Ha! Thought I'd get vanilla didn't you?" Scarlett joked. "That's two for me today, loser. I swear—"

She never got to finish her sentence because a middle-aged couple interrupted us from behind.

"Aren't ya'll just the cutest?" the woman cooed, nudging the man beside her. "Michael, you remember when we were that young and in love, don't you?"

"I barely remember being young," the man joked.

"Hush you!" she said, swatting at him, laughing. "I do declare, it is so nice seeing young folks going on a proper date. None of that rock n' roll madness they're trying to get everyone into now. You're just so lovely."

"Come on dear, we don't want to hold them up." The gentleman tugged on his wife as she gave a little wave goodbye.

Scarlett was frozen, her face red and pale all at once.

"Two swirlies!" The server behind the counter held out two ice creams, but Scarlett didn't budge.

"Scarlett?"

I felt her hand slip out of mine and before I could stop her, she jetted out of the shoppe, leaving me and the ice cream behind.

I glanced at the man apologetically and chased after her.

"Sir! Sir! Your cones!"

I raced through the door, the ringing bell vibrating in my ear. I glanced up and down the street, but she was gone.

 _How did she disappear so fast?_

My heartbeat quickened. I was nervous for myself for being alone, but I was petrified I wouldn't be able to find her. I raced back down the sidewalk toward where we came from, glancing through store windows and down alleyways.

"Scarlett!" I yelled her name, spinning in circles. I accidently bumped into an older man and my hat slipped off. I didn't bother retrieving it.

I needed to find Scarlett. I sped up and down the complicated blocks, making turns and crossing streets I was unfamiliar with. Fancy brick buildings turned into crumbling shops with broken windows and dangling signs that hinted they were abandoned.

"Scarlett!" I panicked and stood still, wheezing to catch my breath. I placed my hands behind my head, frustrated. "Scarlett!"

"Looking for someone?" A white male appeared from behind a dumpster, dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt. His dark hair was gelled back and a cigarette hung from his lips. He dangled a key ring in his hand, spinning it in loops around his index finger.

"I, uh, I need to find my friend," I explained, glancing around. "Have you seen her?"

"You said Scarlett, right?" he asked, still twirling the keychain.

"Yeah. She's a few inches shorter than me, wearing a white dress."

The teenage boy shrugged. "Can't say that I have. But I do see something that ain't supposed to be here."

I gulped, stepping a few inches back. The two buildings on either side of me seemed to close in. I had to get out of there. _Not safe. Not safe._

My head pounded, as if it was telling me to escape as quickly as possible. I got the sinking feeling that wasn't going to happen.

"Seems to me you're on the wrong side of town, Brillo-pad," he sneered, pulling hard on his cigarette. "And that got me to thinking: what's a yellow-looking Negro like yourself doing wandering around these parts? Appears to me you're a thief. You're wearing clothes like a whitey, but here you are sweating like a black pig."

 _My hat._

My hand trembled as I reached up and touched my hair. The gel was all sweated out and a curled bush stood in its place.

 _Shit._

"I gotta tell you, I do love me some bacon." The boy flicked his keychain and a small knife flashed out. He held it outward, pointing as he made steps towards me.

I backed up, prepared to make a run for it when strong hands grabbed me from behind. I struggled to move but the large figure held me in place.

"Thought yellow Negros were illegal, Pete," the hot breath sniggered in my ear.

"Why, Garrett, I think you're right." The guy with the knife, Pete, inched his way toward me until we were breathing the same air. He waved his knife in front of my face, running the blade against my cheek. "I believe this one would be worth more dead than alive."

 _Come on, don't just stand there_ , I told myself. _Do something. Anything._

"Lincoln?" A small, feeble voice called out my name. Pete glanced behind his friend, trying to get a better view. I wasn't strong, but I was fast. I kneed him hard right between the legs. He cried out in pain and I used the opportunity to elbow the guy behind me. I wrangled out of his grasp, pushing his large body to the side. I raced down the alleyway, grabbing a shaking Scarlett.

"Lincoln, these guys … they tried to—" She was sobbing miserably and I held her tightly as she cried against my chest.

"Shh, it's alright. But we gotta go, Scarlett. We have to leave now!" I grabbed her hand in mine and we ducked around the corner just as one of those boys shouted after us.

Scarlett struggled to keep up, but I raced with her trailing behind me. We darted around corners, up and down streets, and through narrow backways until we reached the main street where we first got ice cream.

But we didn't stop.

When you're running for your life, you don't have a choice, otherwise, Death will make it for you.

.

.

.

Scarlett was too upset to go back inside her house and we found ourselves worn out and scared, hiding in the treehouse. It was after three in the afternoon and I knew Mother would be leaving soon.

But I couldn't abandon Scarlett. She had tears streaming down her face, as if she'd been saving them all for this exact moment. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her closely to my thundering heart.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "That couple … they thought … and I got so mad …"

"Shh," I murmured. She didn't need to explain. She didn't want that couple from the ice cream shoppe thinking we were together and she fled.

"I turned down the wrong street," she moaned. "And these black guys came out of nowhere. I yelled for help …"

She choked on her tears and I felt sickened that someone would try to hurt her. I felt worse that I wasn't there to save her.

"Scarlett, I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry!" I rocked her body steadily, but she paused and looked at me with tearful, blood-shot eyes.

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one that left."

"I let you leave," I argued. "I let you get away because for a split second I wondered if I wasn't good enough to be the guy holding your hand. You deserve better than me, Scarlett. You deserve a friend—a white friend—who can walk down the street with you and not worry about who's going to attack and if you're ever going to make it out aliv—"

Scarlett shushed my moving lips by covering her hand over my mouth. " _You_ are my friend, Lincoln. You looked everywhere for me and almost got yourself killed for it. I guess I just got scared."

My words were muffled when I tried to speak. "Schrd obr wat?"

"Huh?"

I pulled her fingers away from my mouth. "Scared over what?"

Scarlett's eyes grew wide and her cheeks turned the same shade of red as her tear streaks. She looked extremely uncomfortable and I didn't want to push her over the matter. She'd been through enough today; we both had.

"Well, I'll tell you what scares me," I said bravely. "I'm frightened of living the way I was—alone. I'm glad to have met you and I'm happy you're my friend."

"Yeah?" She looked hopeful and I nodded.

"Yeah," I answered. I sighed and unwrapped my hand from around hers. I placed it between us, my palm facing up.

Scarlett looked at it, debating.

"What do you call a white girl who smiles?" I asked her.

Scarlett shrugged. "I don't know, what?"

"A cheesy cracker," I said, grinning.

She was silent for all of two seconds and then burst into laughter. "That was so lame."

It didn't matter how lame it was because before I could defend my joke, she slipped her hand into mine. We sat there, in the treehouse, and not another word was spoken.

It didn't need to be, I reckoned.

I remember what Pa used to tell me. _"Dumb folks that talk a lot ain't really got nothing to say. They just like to hear themselves speak. But the smart ones? Those are the folks that are quiet."_

" _Why's that?" I had asked._

"' _Cause they're too busy praying to God, Son. They're asking for wisdom from their hearts and trust me, God wants you to get straight to the point. He ain't got time for jibber jabber. He can work out the details for Himself."_

I glanced at Scarlett. Her eyes were closed and her head was pressed against the rotting wooden walls. I wasn't sure if she was praying or not, but it sure did look like it.

I hoped she was praying.

I was too, and by the time I finished, I confessed how I was falling for a white girl I shouldn't be falling for and I asked if maybe He'd send me a sign to know if she liked me too.

I didn't add any extras, just like Pa said, but I think God heard me.

Scarlett snored softly beside me and her head fell on my shoulder.

Yeah, I think He did.


	9. Weeds

**Chapter Nine: Weeds**

" _Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it."_

 _~Toni Morrison_

 _(EPOV)_

"Why are we back outside again?"

Scarlett lay on her back holding the book over top of her, her curls spread over the treehouse floor. "Because Mother is insisting that I meet her new uppity friends and I don't want to. Now quit interrupting! I'm getting to the good part."

I wasn't complaining. It was cool outside, with darkened skies and the rain coming down, beating against the wooden planks as leaves blew against the window. We needed the July shower, a break from the scorching heat, and I was just happy to be in Scarlett's company. She was staring at the book, but my eyes were watching her.

She continued reading, giving a half-smile at certain parts while keeping the other half hidden. Maybe she kept it in her heart, but I wondered if I looked hard enough if I would find it in a pasture, growing amongst clovers and dandelions. She had this way of blooming even when there wasn't any sun and it seemed like the rain had been pouring all her life.

"Scarlett?"

She sighed dramatically and sat up, crossing her legs over one another and shutting the book without even folding the page over. "You aren't going to let me finish, are you?"

"I …"

I wanted to ask her a question, but I wrung my hands nervously, too afraid of what she'd say. Scarlett had this way of being brutally honest, but sometimes I wasn't so sure the truth was what I wanted to hear.

"Well? Spit it out already."

"How come you don't hold my hand anymore?" I rushed out in a low voice.

Scarlett's eyes widened and then she shifted uncomfortably.

There it was; the moment she'd tell me she was only trying to be nice that one time I was having a panic attack. Or that it was over two weeks ago and I shouldn't have thought anything of it. I waited for her to call me an ignorant colored boy who was lucky to be able to touch her at all.

Instead, her cheeks blushed and she looked like she wanted to shrink in to herself. "You can't just … It don't … and I—" Scarlett sputtered out her words, trying to think of a way to tell me off without cursing. "Because."

"'Cause why?"

She blew out an exasperated gasp of breath and she blew out other things too, like tingles and sparks that danced across my skin. "You're sheltered, Lincoln. You've got to understand society and its rules and having etiquette. You can't just think something and do it without considering the consequences."

I shrugged, not understanding what all of that had to do with holding hands. "Why not?"

"Because it isn't proper. You and me—we can't just, you know."

"It's my hair, isn't it? I shaved it all off again and now it'll never be!" I moaned like it was the end of the world. "I'll never get the pleasure of holding Miss Scarlett Isabella's hand ever again! Damn you short hair and society! Damn you to hell!"

Scarlett tried to hold back her laughter and failed. It burst out of her, like water from a bubbling well. It soothed my soul, hearing her laugh like that, and even more because it was for me.

"What if I didn't hold your hand?" I probed. "What if I just touched it?"

I wasn't giving up. Scarlett's eyebrow raised. "What do you mean?"

"Like this." I reached over and took her right hand, holding it outward. She flinched, but didn't take it back. I tickled my fingertips over her palm, tracing the lines on her fair skin. She shivered and her face turned all shades of red.

"And what was the purpose of that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Nothing," I answered, continuing to trace her skin lightly. Scarlett inched her way forward and the blanket beneath us shifted. "But don't you think—" I became distracted by a piece of paper peeking out from underneath the blanket and my fingertips halted. "What's that?"

Scarlett turned and hid the paper. "Just some old newspaper."

"Well, let me see it. Why do you have it up here?"

Scarlett begrudgingly pulled it out. _Old my ass._ The newspaper was dated from four days ago.

"Father isn't too keen on me reading articles like this, so I hid it."

The headline was in big, bold black letters that read, "ON THE MOVE!" with a picture of a white man on the front. I scanned the front page, reading out loud.

" _As your President, I come forth on the issue of war and peace. We are fighting a war on the issue of African American rights. My country, the hour has passed on whether we can deny a man rights based on the color of his skin. This is an injustice we have failed to insure laid out by the Constitution of our forefathers. As we speak, civil rights activists are preparing for a march this August in Washington, D.C…"_ I trailed off as Scarlett snatched the paper from me. "What's he talking about?"

She swallowed, like she didn't want to explain. "Father said black leaders were rising to storm through the streets with millions of Negros to protest laws. And I quote, 'Whites are in power and not even a king would be able to change America.' Maybe he's right. About things changing, I mean."

I inhaled sharply.

"Don't you want me to be free, Scarlett? Don't you think that someone ought to be able to change people's minds so that I don't have to hide anymore? Don't you think that this," I grasped her hand and intertwined it with mine, "should be normal? That folks like you and me should be able to be friends without getting murdered? That I should be able to declare my feelings as if we were both one color?"

"Feelings?" Scarlett repeated.

I dropped our hands, but only to press my palms against her cheek. I cradled her jaw and brown eyes stared deeply into mine.

My thoughts ran the distance and back. They leapt over barriers divided by lines I knew I shouldn't cross. They flowed beyond Alabama's rolling plains and over savannahs marked by sweltering heat. They crept by rusty, old trucks and climbed the highest trees. And there, at the end, they stopped in the one place they always would.

 _Scarlett._

I caressed her silky skin bravely with my thumb, and the sound of hummingbirds' wings fluttered in my ear, deafening my common sense. I knew she had these morals and values, and maybe I ought to have considered them, but I didn't.

Instead, I leaned forward and kissed Scarlett Isabella Swan so hard she didn't even have time to scream "Negro" at me. Her lips tasted like Ma's lemonade, sweet and good and everything I'd ever imagined.

I waited for her to slap me. I waited for her to scream and yell and push me out into the rain until every bone in my colored body was broken.

But she didn't.

She kissed me back.

It was awkward at first, us trying to figure out how the whole thing worked.

And then I got the hang of it.

My fingers lingered near the nape of her neck and she shivered, despite the fact that it wasn't the least bit cold. Her lips were warm and gentle and I was needy, like I'd been waiting all my life for this moment. I suppose I had been, because something came all around and through me. I slipped my tongue inside her mouth and before she could decide if she liked it or not, I finally pulled back for air.

Her mouth opened and closed in shock and her fingertips touched her trembling lips. I knew she had a million things running through her mind, but I didn't want her to overthink or regret our kiss.

So I did what any colored boy would who kissed a white girl at the top of a tree would do—I snuggled down and laid my head in her lap, passing her the heavy book.

She gazed at me in shock, still deciding if she should say something or escape from the treehouse as quickly as possible.

"Go on," I said, looking upward. "Those words aren't going to read themselves, you know."

"But—"

"Chapter 11," I reminded her. "Really, Scarlett, I'm quite ashamed. One kiss from a black boy and you're already losing it. I knew I was good, but wow."

She hit me on the head with the book and just before she started reading, I saw her lips curve into that beautiful smile.

.

.

.

"You're in an awfully good mood," Ma commented after dinner. Pa and I sat lazily in the living room, rubbing our full stomachs.

"It's the chicken dumplings you made," Pa responded. "That son of mine will smile any day of the week for chicken."

"Pa!" I laughed, stretching out on the sofa. "I'm happy. Aren't I allowed to be that?"

"Reminds me of how you used to look honey," Ma grinned, snuggling under Pa's arm. "Remember that? It was the first time you told me you loved me. We were hiding behind my father's shed and Carlisle here handed me a bouquet of weeds and confessed he was going to marry me!"

"Hey now!" Pa interjected. "Those were lily flowers. I picked them myself."

"They were weeds, Carlisle," Ma laughed. "And dead ones at that. I couldn't help but love you after that."

"Wait," I said, propping myself up. "You confessed that you loved her? How'd you know?"

"Well," Pa began, scratching his chin, "I knew it 'cause I couldn't stop thinking about her. And she made me nervous, that's for sure. But I mostly knew 'cause any time I wasn't with her, I missed her. Love's got this way of hiding inside of you. But when it's real, it can't be hidden. It'll show itself whether you're ready or not."

I thought about Pa's words. Is that what this was? Did I love Scarlett? Is that why I dreamed about her all the time? Or why I couldn't stop thinking about her pretty brown eyes? Or why all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms?

I wasn't sure, but that's what it sounded like.

I wondered if she loved me back.

I didn't think so, or know if she ever could, but she was slowly coming around. I didn't try to kiss her again, but deep down inside, I didn't think she would mind one bit.

"Did you tell Ma as soon as you knew, Pa? I mean, as soon as you figured out you loved her, did you tell her right away?"

Pa shook his head, smiling. "Nope. I had to wait to consider if your Ma's love was worth dying for. It's hard now, but it was even harder then. I didn't know if your grandpa Lincoln was going to kill me."

Ma laughed. "What are you talking about? Father loved you!"

"Yeah, but I didn't know that! I thought all white folks was bad. Turns out they weren't and Lincoln accepted me as one of his own. Even married us, though it won't official to the state of Alabama."

"So you think whites will ever approve of mixed marriages?" I wanted to know if the laws were reformed if Scarlett's father would ever approve. I didn't know anything about the man, but if he was anything like my grandpa, it meant I'd get a chance with Scarlett.

"Of course. The heart can do mighty things, Son," Pa sighed. "All it takes is courage and just a few flowers."

"Weeds, Carlisle," Ma interjected. "They were weeds."

They argued back and forth that evening and though I went to sleep with no idea of who was right, I did discover something about myself: I realized I was falling for Scarlett. And when I finally laid my head down to rest, I wondered if she'd ever allow me to kiss her a second time.

I sure hoped so.

.

.

.

She was doing it again. I'd spent 16 years of my life hiding, but Scarlett had her own way of disappearing.

She shifted several inches away from me nervously, and refused to utter more than a few words. She pretended to be interested in the loose thread of her carpeted floor and turned to the side when I attempted to speak. But most of all, she wouldn't even look at me. I didn't know what I did wrong.

"What's your problem?" I finally asked. "You've been leaving the room all day for no reason and you're barely speaking to me."

"Nothing's the problem!" she snapped. "Maybe I'm just tired of you coming over every single day. Maybe I'm tired of sitting around here, playing cards and reading this dumb book. Just 'cause you can't go out doesn't mean I can't!"

I raised my eyebrow at her voice, but pressed on anyways. "I didn't say you had to sit with me all day. I'm used to it. If you want to leave, then leave."

"Fine," she huffed, crossing her arms. "Maybe I will."

But Scarlett didn't move a muscle and I wasn't so sure if her expression was as angry as it was sad. "Are you upset with me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Stop acting like a pitiful colored, Lincoln," she said spitefully. "Not everything is about you."

There she was berating me again, trying to make me feel awful. I think it was a defense mechanism, like she had to protect herself from actually feeling. Feeling what, I wasn't sure, but I did know she was upset about the previous day.

"Do you regret our kiss?" I asked.

"Shhh! Are you trying to get me caught?"

"Scarlett. Just answer the damn question."

I didn't curse too often, but to actually say those words to her caused a reaction I wasn't prepared for. I expected her to yell or to call me a skunk, but instead her eyes turned red, filled with shame I could never take away.

"We can't do this, Lincoln. We can't! It isn't right," she cried. "I stayed up all night thinking. And you know what I was thinking about? Alice. Alice said I had a crush on you and I told her to hush her mouth 'cause I could never be fond of a colored boy."

The weight of her words dropped like a stone in my stomach. They were heavy and debilitating, making me feel like less of a person. It wasn't that I hadn't heard her be harsh before, but now she was saying it directly to me and it hurt more than anything those boys said to me in town.

"You don't have to like me," I said quietly.

She wiped her eyes and glanced down. "That's the problem, Lincoln. I … I do like you. I like you more than any white girl should ever like a Negro. And I'm ashamed of it. I kept thinking over and over what Father would say. He'd disown me, Lincoln, just for considering such a thing. It's wrong. Everything about us is improper."

Those few sentences caused my heart to leap, and then it was crushed in the matter of a few seconds. Maybe she was right and folks like us were never meant to be together. But maybe she was wrong; maybe there were people like my Ma and Pa who overcame anything.

I leaned over, taking her hand in mine and stroking her silky skin with the pad of my thumb. "If you like me then why are you so angry?"

"Because," she whispered, "Father will kill you, Lincoln. I don't mean rough you up and slap you around. I mean he will hang you with a rope, beat you, and watch you bleed until you breathe your last breath. He doesn't care. That's just how he is."

I had never met the infamous Mr. Swan, but I wondered if he'd reconsider if he got to know me. He wasn't like those roughnecks in the alley, right? He was a grown man, dignified with money and everything. He'd have to listen to me, even for Scarlett's sake. My Ma and Pa would be angry at me for revealing myself, but I'd do anything to be with Scarlett.

"He wouldn't try to be reasonable?" I questioned. "Not even for you and what you wanted?"

"No," she cried, wiping her eyes. "He's not like Alice and her family. He's cruel. You don't even want to know how he treats Jenks. I've seen the scars on his hands and around his neck … I can't have that happen to you. I can't."

"Okay," I reassured her. "We don't have to say nothing. We can remain a secret, for now. But just know, my Pa's going to one of those rallies this weekend and I think it might do some good. I'll be legal before you know it and you'll be proud to walk around with me on your arm. We'd make a fine couple, I think."

She smiled beneath wet eyelashes and she touched my hand tenderly as I reached out to caress her cheek. I remembered something, standing up while she looked at me in surprise. "Where are you going?"

"I forgot," I told her. "I got you a gift."

I rushed towards the window and opened it, pulling my surprise from the balcony floor. I turned around, beaming as I dropped to one knee. I held out the bouquet, offering it to her. "Scarlett Isabella Swan, will you be my girl?"

She giggled and sniffled through her tears. "Those are weeds, Lincoln."

"Oh no," I said dramatically. "I climbed the highest mountain and crawled through the lowest valley. These, sweet Scarlett, are not weeds. They're lilies. Only the best for the prettiest girl in the world."

"Well in that case, I guess I have to say yes. You sure do know how to flatter me, Mister Lincoln."

Scarlett accepted the brown, withering plants as I wrapped my arms around her. I whispered to the heavens that I loved her and even though she didn't hear me, maybe I'd be brave enough to one day tell her the truth.

I pulled back, kissing her lips as the door swung open.

"SCARLETT ISABELLA!"

My girl, the one I'd been waiting for my entire life for, gasped and turned around. She finally noticed the door she forgot to lock and the key left haphazardly on the bed. A woman in a fancy dress and brunette colored hair stood at the open doorway, her eyes aghast at the scene before her.

A black man in uniform attire stood beside the woman. Jenks, I presumed, tried to block us, but Scarlett's mother shoved him out of the way.

I was worried for Scarlett, but the yelling and commotion caused one more person to enter the room, one I was not prepared for.

Ma screamed my name and dropped the dust feather from her hand.

Scarlett trembled in my arms and despite the shrieking from all the females in the room, there was one sound I heard above the others.

It was a male's voice, strong and full of authority that made me almost vomit with fear.

"Renee? Scarlett?" I heard the shuffling of keys and the loud thump of a heavy briefcase hitting the floor.

"I'm home."


	10. Reminder

I am featured on ADifferentForest's Author Spotlight! Big TY to Tinie432! Go check it out! Welcome back and I hope y'all had a grand weekend! Thanks to Cherry and Cinny, as always. I'm beginning to think my cupcakes aren't payment enough...

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Reminder**

 _"If we lose love and self-respect for each other, this is how we finally die."_

 _~Maya Angelou_

 _(IPOV)_

"Scarlett!"

I jumped at the sound of Mother's voice, bumping my head on the open cabinet door. I groaned, rubbing my scalp, and then reached for the jar of cookies.

"Goodness, Scarlett, what has been going on with you lately?" Mother shook her head and sat down at the kitchen table, scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered, placing the chocolate chip cookies on a plate. _Five, six … No, Lincoln eats like a horse… Nine, ten…_

"You stay locked up in that room of yours for hours. And then today you've been up and down that flight of stairs more times than I can count. You eat more than Esme can cook … I'm just worried about you, honey. I know this move has been hard, but if you go out into town, perhaps you can make a few new friends."

I scoffed. Friends. Birmingham showed me all that it had to offer and it wasn't spectacularly pleasant. "I'm fine, Mother. Its summer, I'm supposed to be relaxing, remember?"

Mother sighed. "Okay, I won't say another word. I met some wonderful ladies at the tea room the other day. They'll be over in a little bit. Would you like to meet them?"

"No." I grabbed my plate and tried to escape from the kitchen.

Mother raised her eyebrow at my blunt answer. "Well, all right then. Just don't eat too many of those. You'll get sick."

I nodded and dashed out of the kitchen before she could say anything else. I arrived at the door of my bedroom as Jenks walked by me. He'd been walking on eggshells ever since that day Father hit him and he ducked his head down.

"Jenks."

He paused, turning around in a slow circle. "Yes, Miss Scarlett?"

"Would you, uh, like …" I couldn't find the words to ask him, so I just held out the plate. "Here. Have them all. I'm sure you don't get a chance to eat many sweets."

He stared at me, his eyes reflecting a broken man whose soul I'd had the awful pleasure in breaking. "I don't think I can eats those cookies, Miss Scarlett. Mr. Charles wouldn't like that too much."

"Are you refusing me, Jenks?"

"No, Miss Scarlett."

I pushed the plate closer to him and placed the entire dish in his shaking hands as he stood there, bewildered by my generosity. _I'll just bring Lincoln a different snack later._ I sighed. "Well, go on. Mother's friends are coming over. You better go help Esme with serving."

Jenks nodded, holding the cookies in his hands, and headed down the stairs. I unlocked my bedroom door and walked through, smiling. I was so distracted by what Lincoln was doing that I simply closed the door and tossed my key on the bed.

Lincoln sat crisscrossed on the floor, with his eyes closed and his hands in the air. His elbows were bent and he all of his fingers touched together.

I sat on the floor with him. "What are you doing?"

"Shh, I'm meditating." He hummed and I giggled.

"You look like a fool," I retorted and he opened one eye.

"And you look like a dying flower garden with that dress on, but you don't see me complaining now, do you?"

I pushed his chest and he laughed, relaxing his position. His eyes lit up every time I touched him these days, which was becoming more frequent. It all changed that one awful afternoon we snuck out into town. He was having a panic attack and it took everything in me just to hold his hand and comfort him.

I was sure I was going to have to scrub myself for hours, but then I didn't.

His hand felt warm in mine; nice, even. But then that lady in the ice cream shoppe …

I can't even describe what ran through my mind. One second we were waiting on our desserts and the next that lady was gushing over us holding hands.

I hated it.

I hated her for pointing it out.

I was angry because despite Lincoln's disguise, we would never be.

I would never be allowed to walk in a store with him and hold hands like any young couple would. It was a devastating thought. I was mad at myself for wanting something like that and even madder it would never be.

I didn't know which was worse.

Then I ran out of there, trying to escape my own mind, and ended up getting lost. Two black teenagers cornered me and if it weren't for a bystander coming to my aide, they would've had me too.

They would've done despicable things I couldn't even imagine.

I held Lincoln's hand twice, once while we ran and again at the top of the treehouse. It wasn't so bad, and each time got a little easier. I kept my distance some days though, 'cause he'd want to touch me which made my heart start beating real fast and, well … I couldn't cope with that.

Especially after yesterday.

He kissed me so hard I didn't ever think he'd stop. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and before I could decide if I liked it or not, I found myself hoping there was some other white girl out there who was being kissed by a Negro with as much affection as I was.

I glanced up and Lincoln was staring at me. I remembered the first time we'd met and I thought he was beautiful. He still was. In Virginia, I thought I'd seen it all. Young men that would want to court me in the hopes of someday taking my hand in marriage. Sons of politicians and men with power. And here was Lincoln, a yellow boy born from a white woman and a cotton-picker, and he was the one I wanted.

My own father would never allow such a thing to happen.

I was at a crossroads between being enraged and depressed.

I turned away from Lincoln's green eyes, fumbling with the carpet—anything to distract myself from him.

"What's your problem?"

His simple question made me explode. I yelled that I didn't want to be stuck there in that room. It was a lie. I just didn't know how to tell him I'd fallen for him, and that he was all I ever thought about.

"Stop acting like a pitiful colored, Lincoln," I snapped.

 _Don't say that, Scarlett!_

 _Tell him. Tell him how you feel. Tell him you don't care about what other people think. That none of it matters when it comes to him._

So I did. I admitted I liked him, and even how humiliated I felt for doing so.

It just led to us arguing back and forth.

No, I didn't regret our kiss. I wished he would kiss me again. I wanted my heart to pound and thump and jump in my chest. I wanted his hands on me again and to feel his lips against mine.

The thought made me burst into uncontrollable tears. Lincoln had this irrational idea my father would accept him. What on earth would make him think a thing like that? He had no idea how the world worked. He was like a child in some ways, filled with delusions and hope I didn't understand.

I wiped my tears away when he stood up. "I got you a gift."

He ran to the window, pushed up the sill, and bent over to retrieve something. When he turned around, he smiled and walked over to kneel in front of me with a cheesy grin. "Scarlett Isabella Swan, will you be my girl?"

I sat silently in shock. He liked me? He wanted me to be his girl? I didn't know what to say.

I giggled at the brown bushel of dead grass. He made me laugh, he always did. I guess that part of his innocence I didn't mind so much. "Those are weeds, Lincoln."

After he made up some nonsense story about how he got his so-called lilies, I accepted them and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I hugged him tightly and I heard him whisper words beneath his breath.

He pulled away, but it was to give me a kiss. I smiled, pressing my mouth against his, thankful for him and the moments we got to share in our own little world.

And then suddenly, it wasn't.

"SCARLETT ISABELLA!"

I inhaled a sharp breath when I heard Mother's voice behind me.

 _The door! I didn't lock the door!_

The scene happened in a blur. Esme was yelling, Mother was yelling, Jenks was pushed away and if I paid attention closely, I would've noticed he was trying to block Mother's view.

I panicked, scrambling and crouching myself in front of Lincoln protectively.

I could explain this, right?

His hair was buzzed short again. He could be mistaken for white. Sure, I'd get into trouble for having a boy in the house, but I couldn't explain a Negro's presence.

 _Think, Scarlett_ , I told myself _._ _Say something intelligent_. _Make up an excuse._

Before I could rectify the situation, I heard Father downstairs.

"Renee? Scarlett? I'm home!"

I felt Lincoln tremble behind me and Mother turned to Esme. "This is your son? You allowed your son in my home with my daughter?"

Esme was too shocked to answer her as Father's heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs. "Renee? Where are you? You wouldn't believe what nonsense happened today!"

I turned to Lincoln with fearful eyes. "Run, Lincoln! You have to run! He'll kill you! Please, please, please, go!"

He swallowed and I think there was enough anxiety and dread between us to fill up the entire room. He didn't budge, and it was like he thought he was the one who could protect me.

Father appeared at the door and everyone in the room became silent.

He stared. A long look at Esme, in particular. Once at Jenks. Once at Lincoln. Three seconds for me.

"Jenks," he said calmly. "You have the rest of the day off. Go."

Jenks seemed like he didn't want to move a muscle. Father pointed into the hallway. "Now."

"Yes, Mr. Charles."

He backed away, apologizing to me with his eyes. It wasn't his fault. It was mine. All mine. I did this.

Father removed his suit jacket, quietly walking over to the bed and draping it over my comforter. He glanced at the abandoned key, then picked it up. He sat down, crossing one leg and twisting the key in his hands.

"Renee," he began, "I had the strangest thing happen today. I received a call from a gentleman named Smith. Quite nice fellow, used to be a resident in Birmingham. He told me he owned a business now in Georgia and he wanted to make a deal for one of my factories. One thing led to another and he told me how much he missed Birmingham and one person in particular."

Father rubbed his thumb over the key, his eyes glazed over. "He told me he used to have a housekeeper he was very fond of. I don't suppose you know who that was?"

Mother peeled her eyes away from me to tilt her head. "Didn't Esme work for the Smiths?"

"You'd be correct dear. And he told me something quite particular, something I didn't know. Our housekeeper—the one I've been paying with my hard earned money—is fucking her a Negro man."

My eyes widened at Father's foul language. It seemed as if Lincoln stopped breathing. I reached behind me, holding his hand.

"So that's why I'm home early. I came to tell you no worker of mine is going to be a colored lover and to fire her immediately. Imagine my surprise when I walk into my house to see a boy that looks just like her cowering behind my daughter."

Esme started crying and Father snapped. "Shut the hell up! You thought you could hide this from me?"

He stood up, marching to Esme and grabbing her by her collar. She shook her head, sobbing as he released her and she stumbled.

"Charles!" Mother stretched out her hand to stop him and Father walked over to her. He whispered something in her ear and her bottom lip trembled. She shook her head and he pointed to the door. "Now, Renee, or I swear, I will do to you what I'm going to do to this Negro!"

Mother walked backwards, stumbling over her own two feet. She finally left down the hall and I heard a door slam shut.

 _How could she?_ My mind ran rapid, trying to decide whether to tell her off or try and get Lincoln out of there. I knew I should do the later, but I didn't know how he could get away. Father would have no hesitation in shooting him. He had several guns, as most men did, and he wouldn't blink an eye on shooting Esme or Lincoln, depending on who he got to first.

"Father … don't do this," I begged. "He's white too, just like you and I. It's not his fault. He's very kind and he likes me for me and he's the only friend I have here. Please."

"Friend?" Father spit out the word like an expletive. "Scarlett, there's no such thing as Negro friends. You're either white or the shit beneath my shoe. You can't be both. You're young and you've got a lot to learn."

He walked towards us and I gripped Lincoln's hand tighter.

"Boy, if I were you, I'd go of my daughter right now. She can't help you. You're going to suffer, so you might as well do it with whatever colored dignity you've got left."

"Don't!" I screamed. "Don't you lay a hand on him!"

"Scarlett, I'm warning you!"

I didn't move an inch and Father, in his demented behavior, stormed towards Esme and grabbed her by the throat. He squeezed, lifting her up until her feet dangled off the ground.

"Scarlett. Just do as he says." Lincoln slid his hand out of mine and bravely rose to his feet. "Sir, I did this. My mother didn't even know I was here."

"The piece of shit has dignity after all," Father sneered, letting go. Esme wheezed through her tears, coughing as she tried to take a breath. "I respect that boy. It doesn't change a thing, but I respect you admitting when you're wrong."

"I didn't say I was wrong, Mr. Swan."

Father halted and I shook my head. _No, Lincoln. Be quiet! You don't know what you're saying. Just hush already!_

But he kept talking.

"I've lived my entire life being hidden, not knowing what's out there. And then I met Scarlett. She's the most beautiful person I've ever met. She's gotten to know me, to care for me when the rest of the world sees nothing but my skin. And I love her. I know you don't approve, but if you'll give me the chance, you'll see I will treat her like the princess she is."

I paused as tingles ran up and down my spine. I glanced up at Lincoln, my heart swelled with affection I couldn't explain. "You love me?"

"I do, Scarlett Swan. I love you like my pa loves my ma. I love you like lilies that look like weeds and swirled ice cream I've never had the pleasure of tasting. I may not be all white, but both sides of me love you just the same. And maybe you'll never return that love and I can live with that. But I thought you ought to know."

His words made tears fall from my eyes. I cried because maybe deep down, I'd loved him the whole time and didn't know it. Maybe I was too focused on hating his skin color that love slipped right through me, peeking out and I didn't even notice.

I smiled through my tears just as Father yelled out. "Like hell you do! Have you lost your damned mind?"

Father swung and punched Lincoln across the face. Lincoln stumbled backwards only for Father to grab him by the back of his neck. He dragged him across the pristine carpet and Esme and I both yelled out.

"You're going to know the repercussions of Negro love, Scarlett. You and that filthy housekeeper stay in this room and if I so much as think you've moved an inch, I will kill her right in front of you!"

He slammed the door behind him and I cried out.

"What's he doing?" Esme wept.

"Esme, he's going to kill him! We have to do something!"

I heard the sounds of kicking and yelling going down the stairs. There was a loud crash and more thumping. It stopped for a half a minute when Esme glanced out of the open window and screamed in horror.

I ran to the glass, watching as Father dragged Lincoln across the lawn with a large twine rope in his hand. Lincoln struggled, but Father was stronger. Lincoln's tan linen clothes were torn and I noticed the streaks of blood. Father finally reached a tree near the perimeter of our yard and he swung the rope over a low, thick branch.

He held Lincoln firmly as he tied a knot, looping it over Lincoln's head. He tugged on the end, tying the remainder at the base of the tree. He pulled until the tip of Lincoln's feet were kicking against the ground.

I screamed and beat against the sill. Lincoln grasped the rope, struggling to pull it away from his neck and trying to keep his balance at the same time.

Father wasn't going to just murder him, he was going to torture him.

Lincoln would fight and move and twist until he wouldn't be able to anymore.

I ran for the doorway, rotating on the brass handle.

It refused to open.

"Esme! Help me!"

She jerked and wrangled the knob with me, but the door didn't open. Father must have blocked us in somehow. We banged on the door until I finally gave up trying that exit.

I went to the open window and yelled out as Father turned around.

"You try leaving out that window, Scarlett, and I'll shoot his black ass dead!" Father flashed a revolver, dragged a chair out from the patio and sat down in it.

He stared as Lincoln huffed and jerked from the tree.

Lincoln was the one hanging, but I was sure my heart would give out first.

Nausea swelled through my stomach and remnants of whatever food I had eaten spewed from my parched mouth. My heart ruptured in my chest, exploding into fragmented pieces over and over again. I had no more tears to cry and my hands seemed to be damp with tears that refused to fall. There was a sort of pain bubbling inside of me, refusing to come out as I held it all inside.

I had known hatred, had tasted it on the tip of my tongue. I'd felt it for every colored I'd ever come into contact with, but now it was for the man who had given me life. But today, he was taking it too. It lingered outside in the blistering sun and my love connected to a boy who selflessly declared his devotion for me. I collapsed in a heap on my own bile, ignoring a sobbing Esme next to me.

I had no comfort to give her, no words that would ease her mind. I was too stuck in my own despair, my veins hardening like cement as I watched Lincoln turn colors no law could forbid. Grief overwhelmed me, surging through expelled breaths, as I let go of every ounce of hope I had left. It was a sneaky reminder that Lincoln never really had hope. He wasn't meant for this world. He was too good for it. That kind of pureness never really fit in Birmingham, not here and not with me.

And that was the problem with Edward Lincoln Masen.

He didn't belong anywhere.

Anywhere at all.


	11. Saturated

**Chapter Eleven: Saturated**

" _Where there is love there is no darkness."_

 _~Burundian proverb_

 _(EPOV)_

" _18, 19, 20 … Ready or not, here I come!"_

 _I held my breath, trying not to laugh as I hid on the top shelf in Ma and Pa's closet, shielded by cardboard boxes. The air was hot and stale and I crouched my legs closest to the corner of the wall._

 _I could hear Pa yell, "Gotcha!" throughout the house, only to be disappointed by an empty space._

" _Where are ya, Son?" I covered my mouth and smothered my giggles as I listened to Pa walk in to search his bedroom. I peeked out of the closet, watching him look under the bed, behind the curtains, and beneath the pillows._

 _Finally, he looked inside the closet, moving clothes over and glancing at the floor. He backed away, scratching his head._

" _It's a shame I can't find my boy. He must be a good hider!" Pa exclaimed, looking confused._

 _I grinned widely, my two front teeth missing. I knew I would win this game!_

" _Oh well," Pa sighed. "I guess I'm gonna have to go eat this big ol' turkey all by myself …"_

 _Wait, turkey! I love turkey. I want some!_

" _I best get my eating shirt on. Don't want to mess this one up." Pa walked back to the closet, rummaging through the few clothes on the hangers. "Wait a second, I think I've got the one I want right … HERE!"_

 _I screamed as Pa's big hand touched the top of my head. He laughed robustly, sliding a box out of the way and reaching his arms out for me._

 _I giggled. "How'd you know I was up here, Pa?"_

 _I wrapped my arms around his neck as he set me on my feet._

" _You're my flesh and blood, Lincoln. A father always finds his son. 'Sides, even if I hadn't found you I would've never stopped looking!"_

" _You mean that?"_

 _Pa ruffled my head of wild, bronzed curls. "Of course. What do I always tell you? You're a Masen …"_

" _Through and through," I said, finishing his infamous quote._

 _He grinned, took me by the hand, and we snuck a piece of Ma's turkey out of the oven, even though it wasn't done yet. We played hide-and-seek several more times, but he always found me._

 _Always._

 _._

 _._

 _._

The thick rope scratched against my throat and my weak fingers wrapped around the rough twine. I struggled to flex my legs to keep standing on my tiptoes, but I was so tired. Every muscle, bone, and fiber in my body hurt like hell. It was a burning feeling intermixed with bruises swelling along my abdomen. My throat gurgled as I tried to breathe what little oxygen was permissible. I felt the warm silver of Scarlett's necklace dangling and pressing against my chest. I was sweating from that day's intense heat and shaking from the merciless pain. For a mere second my head tilted to my shoulder, only to jolt me back to reality.

It would be easier to give up, to die beneath the moonlit sky. I wouldn't be in agony anymore, wouldn't have to feel the edge of my loafers slip across the muddy, wet grass. I wouldn't have to think of Ma and Pa grieving for me after I was long gone, or of Scarlett, to whom I confessed my love with my final declaration.

Maybe it would be better. Maybe they would be better.

Charles Swan was seated about ten feet away from me, sitting upright, with his gun in his lap. He'd unbuttoned his shirt collar hours ago and stared at me with a wrath I didn't deserve. I couldn't tell if he was awake or not, but it didn't matter. By morning, I'd be dead.

I watched Ma and Scarlett for hours, up high in that window. Charles would turn around ever so often to threaten them and to remind them of my impending death. From where I was I could hear their weeping and then some time earlier, they had disappeared.

I didn't blame them; I wouldn't want to watch that either.

I thought I was being courageous, telling Scarlett I loved her despite her father's disapproval. In that moment, I seemed to forget everything my own parents taught me about how evil folks were. But I learned quickly. I had become too complacent, thinking I deserved to be loved. It was this sort of foolishness that had nearly gotten me killed so many times, and now it was finally happening.

Minutes ticked by tortuously, eating away the hope I'd been storing up for so long. If Charles was insistent on breaking me, he'd succeeded. I was shattered and exhausted, tired of being me.

I regretted coming with Ma, for ever thinking I could live in the real world. There was nothing out there but death and it always had a way of finding me.

The pain coursed through my shaking legs, my calves piercing with the stabbing sensations of pinched nerves. I inhaled a sliver of the cool, night air, wondering how much longer it would be before I fell asleep. My mind turned in circles, and eventually I would drift into unconsciousness. The rope would tug on my throat and I'd gasp, knowing the inevitable was coming.

I was at peace somehow. I knew I'd die this way: by hanging, or by fire, or by a gun—all at the hands of another. I wondered if God could still hear me, out in the open like this. Maybe He had better people to save, folks that were white and dignified, folks that were worth saving.

I was a yellow Negro and I would never be anything more.

I stepped back and forth, the mud from the previous day's rain keeping me from holding my position for very long. I thought back to how many of my ancestors died this way, or if they were given a quick death. I was always the unlucky one.

My thoughts wandered to Scarlett and how her wide brown eyes were filled with fear as Charles dragged me away. I didn't want her to think this was her fault. I took responsibility for my actions. I knew the cost of loving her but I couldn't stop it. My heart overrode common sense, but it was worth it—she was worth it.

She always said exactly what she thought, and that's what I loved about her. She was an open book, filled with truths I didn't always want to hear, but needed to. But deep down, I thought—or hoped—she loved me back. That maybe she'd like me as more than a friend and we'd live happily ever after like the fairy tales we read.

Or maybe the pages ended sooner than I wished.

I choked, the rope getting too heavy to hold. I gasped for air, gagging as pain shot through my spine. My eyes welled up with tears and perhaps I was weak for going out like this—with tears streaming down my face—but I couldn't help it. I cried for Ma and Pa and how'd I miss them. I cried for Scarlett, knowing I'd never really get the chance to hold her again. I cried for Alice, the first real friend I'd ever known.

I cried for myself.

I cried for being yellow and for thinking I'd ever survive. I cried for my stupidity, and I hoped somewhere out there, there was a yellow boy just like me, hiding in his Ma's kitchen.

I hoped he stayed there and never left. I hoped he hid and never peeked out. I hoped he didn't climb in the back of an old Chevy or fall in love with a white girl who had a racist, unforgiving, bigoted father.

Because this—hanging from a tree with my fingers slipping—wasn't a pleasant way to die.

No one should have to endure this, not even a Negro like me.

So I let go.

.

.

.

Death was like floating towards the moon, being lifted up high, waiting to see God's face. I hoped He recognized me right away. I hoped He'd be proud of me for trying to hold on as long as I did.

I was waiting for the angels to appear, to sing my name in a heavenly chorus. They sang it all right, but it was more of a whisper. And they didn't call me Edward. Just Lincoln. Over and over.

" _Lincoln."_

" _Lincoln."_

"Son!"

My eyes blinked slowly, and I swear God looked just like my Pa. He cradled me in his arms, the rope no longer around my neck. I wondered why it was so dark in Heaven. I thought it would be prettier than that, with trumpets and light and streets made of gold.

God had strong arms, just like Pa, and He even sweated like him too. He wasn't majestic like I thought, but he ran, holding me closely to his chest.

"Hold on, Lincoln. They're at the truck. We're almost there."

My eyes fluttered shut again. God didn't make any sense. I was waiting on them angels, with wings as wide as an open field. Seconds, maybe minutes passed by, and God hoisted me in the back of truck, my sore back hitting the metal floor.

"Oh God! My baby …" I finally heard an angel and she was crying. I wished she wasn't. God was there and we'd be all right. The angel held me closely and though I didn't feel her wings, she reminded me of Ma.

"I'm so sorry, Lincoln. I'm so, so sorry!" There it was! That was the angel I was waiting for. She sang apologies like a lullaby, but I didn't want her apologizing. Hearing that voice reminded me I was in heaven. She kissed me everywhere; my forehead, cheek, and nose. She rubbed my head and cradled me closely, brushing her lips across my damp skin.

Heaven was nice, but it was mighty loud, rumbling through the darkness. An unfamiliar hand held mine, patting it gently. My necklace slid to the side and the hand lingered over it, putting it back into my shirt. "Sorry we couldn't get you out sooner, Mister Lincoln. Had to wait for Mister Charles to go to sleep. Took me forever and a day to unjam that door."

Heaven was confusing, talking about folks I never wanted hear about ever again. So I just breathed the fresh air, enjoying the small fingers that strummed along my scalp. This angel was the kindest of them all, sweet and gentle, and she loved me.

I know, 'cause she whispered it to me over and over again.

.

.

.

Maybe God wasn't ready for me yet. Maybe I had just a little bit more living to do.

I realized it when I woke up on a jumbled bed with bandages and ice on various parts of my body. I ached horribly, a throbbing pain like I'd never felt before. I was in different clothes and my blood stained ones were gone.

"Lincoln, it's me. Can you see me? Can you hear me? Carlisle! He's awake! Carlisle!" Ma yelled in my ear and I winced.

"Ma, I'm not deaf." Talking just made my throat hurt worse and I coughed, lurching forward and then back on the bed.

"No, you're not, baby. You sure aren't." She was back to weeping again and I glanced around at the empty room, ignoring her tears. I couldn't handle it right now. I had enough of my own.

Pa entered, carrying a compress, and placed it over my head. The coldness stung, but felt good on my warm skin. "How's it feel coming back from the dead?"

"Like shit," I moaned.

"I don't know how you even—" Pa shook his head, disappointed. "What were you thinking, Son?"

"Carlisle, not now!" Ma shooed him away, her blonde hair swinging across her shoulder. "He's in pain and well aware of what he did and the repercussions. He doesn't need you fussin' and carryin' on. What's done is done. Go get Scarlett in here before one of them has a heart attack."

Pa sighed and kissed me on my forehead. "We'll talk later."

That's what I was afraid of. But I didn't worry about that now. _Scarlett! She's in my house?_

"She's here?" I asked timidly.

Ma smiled weakly. "For the last few hours. Pacing the floor, back and forth. I had to send her in the living room and let you rest. Jenks is here too. He's the one that got us out of that room. He saved your life, Lincoln."

I nodded, grateful for a stranger's kindness. "I'll tell him thank you."

"You do that." Ma patted my shoulder, adjusted the blankets around me, and turned to look at me before she left. "Lincoln? No matter what your Pa says, I'm proud of you. He's not angry because of what you did. He's angry because you're exactly like him. That's what scares him the most; that you'd sacrifice your own life for love."

"Yeah," I said sorrowfully. "Except it's different when they don't love you back."

"You'd be surprised," she said with a wink. She left and I saw a flowered dress appear behind her. Scarlett stood at the doorway, folding her hands nervously, her ribbon haphazardly hanging down her hair.

"Hi," she said, waving just the slightest bit.

"Hey." She looked so small and vulnerable, not like the loud, boastful girl I always knew. It was weird seeing her in my home, like she didn't fit in. The problem was, she looked like she shouldn't be in any other place. "You gonna come over here or are you gonna make me get up?"

Scarlett nodded but it seemed like it took all of her strength just to do so. I groaned, moving over while she crossed the room and sat beside me. She looked like she was frightened to even touch me, but not like before; more like she thought I would break. She had to know I wasn't capable of breaking. Not anymore—not with her beside me.

"Don't look so sad," I said cheerfully. "I think some of these bruises are an improvement. Gives me character, don't ya think?"

Scarlett looked at me for three seconds, her bottom lip trembling before she crushed me in a hug. "Oh Lincoln! I'm s-s-so sorry! I c-c-couldn't stop him … and t-then he had that gun … and M-Mother wouldn't come out of her r-room …"

"Shhh," It hurt like a dickens, wrapping my arms around her, but I did it anyways. I hated seeing her like this, blaming herself for her father's actions. Her hair fell over my face and I brushed it away with my fingers, kissing the small space on her neck. "Won't your fault, Scarlett. It was my decision. Nobody could keep me away from you, not even your father. I love you, don't you know that?"

She sniffled, sitting up and wiping her tears with the side of her hand. "I don't deserve you. After all I've done … and then watching you out there like that. I c-can't-"

I gripped her hands tightly in mine. "Now you listen here, Scarlett Swan. There will be no pity party in here. I'm breathing, you're with me, and that's all that matters. Fuck everything and everybody else."

Scarlett's eyes widened at my language and she repeated after me slowly. "Fuck it?"

I laughed out loud at her innocence. "That's right. Fuck it. I've got my girl here and the only thing that's going to make me feel better is a cigarette—which I plan on getting later—and my girl lying next to me."

She smiled, snuggling next to me and I turned to the side, spooning her and kissing the nape of her neck. Every muscle revolted against the movement, but I ignored it. I needed her more than anything in this world and I was beginning to think she needed me too.

"Lincoln?"

"Yeah, Scarlett?"

"I love you."

My heart clamored and tightened in my chest. I pulled her closer to me and for once, we weren't black or white or anything in between.

We were just us.

Lincoln and Scarlett.

"I love you, too."

.

.

.

I didn't know how much more of this wretched day I could take, but we hadn't slept any more than a few hours when there was a loud bang at the door. The pounding kept up and Ma rushed into the room, panicking and shaking us both.

"Lincoln! Scarlett!" she half-whispered, but somehow still yelled, "Wake up! You've got to hide! It's the police!"

I glanced at the clock and it was sometime after noon.

"Lincoln! Now!" I jerked up, despite the pain, jumping out of bed. I grabbed Scarlett's hand, pulling her with me.

"Oh no, it's Father! He came looking for me!" she half-cried, glancing around in panic.

"Shh! Lincoln! Go! Take her with you!"

I nodded, half-stumbling out of Ma's bedroom and down the hall. I approached the doorway of the bathroom and peeled back the molding that led to the inner parts of our home. It was a tight space and I didn't know how I managed to fit in there all these years. I tugged Scarlett with me, and she squeezed through, our bodies pressed tightly together. Ma rushed after us, fitting the molding back into place, and ran down the hall.

I could hear Pa's voice and those of several officers.

"I got a report from Mr. Charles Swan that you're holding an illegal yellowed and his daughter. We've got a right to search the premises."

I didn't hear anything from Jenks and I wondered if he was still there. Scarlett breathed heavily beside me and I wrapped my arm around her waist, my skin scrapping the old wood. "Don't breathe."

I didn't mean it literally but I think she understood, because she exhaled smaller breaths. The air blew across my shoulder and neck as she shook nervously around me.

"You can search all you want. Ain't got nothing or nobody of the sort around here." Pa's voice boomed loudly and noisy footsteps trampled nearby.

"Ma'am, you want to tell me what you're doing married to a Negro? You understand that's against the law, don't you?"

"There's no law against dating, officer, and as you can see, I've got no such ring on my hand. So unless you want to arrest me for being open-minded, I'd say I've got the right to love who I please."

"Esme!" Pa hissed at Ma and she finally became quiet. Loud noises banged around us; doors opened and closed, cabinets were swung open, and a mattress was lifted up and then fell down again.

Scarlett was still shaking and in the quietest voice I could muster, I whispered against her lips, breathing her in. "You're safe. Just stay focused on me."

She nodded but her body trembled against me frantically. I could feel goosebumps rising along the soft skin of her arm. She needed my comfort, needed to know I could protect her. I was used to defending myself but she wasn't. It hurt my soul to see her so scared. No, it killed me. It was worse than anything that could ever be done to me, any rope that was strung around my neck. She was strong in many ways, but fragile too. But she was special to me, the only precious thing I could ever truly call mine. So I did the only thing I could to calm her down.

I kissed her.

I pressed my lips against hers, firmly, but in the softest, gentlest way possible. I held them there briefly before our lips moved slowly in perfect sync. I exhaled through my nose, not wanting to interrupt our private moment. My lips were chapped and every bone ached, but I didn't care. All I could focus on was the liquid warmth that spread though my body, rushing to every inch of me. It was all saturated with love and pain and adoration and agony. We lingered there, body against body, lips against lips, broken soul against broken soul.

I finally had to pull away, but only to inhale her breath. "You're okay. We're going to be all right."

I felt her nod against me as I held her there, waiting for the police to stop destroying our house. I didn't know if it was five minutes or twenty, but Ma finally tapped against the wall, alerting us it was safe. She pulled at the molding and Scarlett stepped out first, her dress getting caught on a splinter. She tugged on it hard, with me following behind her.

We walked into the kitchen, where Jenks was sitting at the table. Pa was seated next to him, rubbing his own forehead stressfully. Ma pulled out a chair, which I collapsed into immediately. We sat there quietly, each one thinking his and her own thoughts, but Scarlett finally spoke up.

"What are we going to do?"

"You've got to go home, Miss Scarlett. Mr. Charles will keep searching and if he finds you here …" Jenks trailed off, and we all finished his sentence in our own way.

"I can't," she sobbed. "Father will be so angry. He'll lock me away! And Mother's too much of a damn coward to actually do anything!"

"Scarlett." I held out my weak arm, prompting her to come to me. She walked over slowly, crying, and I pulled her into my lap. "It's going to be all right. You go home with Jenks, make up some lie, and you continue about as normal. Your Father won't find me. I'm a master of hiding in my own house. It's when I left that I made a mistake."

"What about us?" she sniffled.

"You two can't continue," Pa responded firmly. "Next time he catches you, Son, I may not get there in time."

I knew he was right. The marks on my throat knew it and my fragile muscles knew it too. But there was no way I could abandon Scarlett. Not after this, not ever. I squeezed her hand, letting her know that some way, I would figure something out.

"I'll drive you two back," Ma offered. "It'll have to be at the end of the road though. There's no way I'm stepping foot back into that neighborhood."

She sighed, and I suddenly realized Ma was out of a job again and it was my fault.

"Ma, can we have a little time together? Please?" I begged though I had no right to, but if that was the last time I'd be seeing Scarlett for a while, I wanted to make the moment last.

"Go on," Pa answered for her. I glanced at him in shock and he nodded. Maybe he understood more than I thought.

Scarlett stood up and I wobbled to my feet, grabbing the table for support. She wrapped her arm around my waist and supported me as we walked down the hall to my parent's bedroom. I shut the door behind us and we paced slowly towards the bed. I lay down first, with her positioning herself until she placed her head on the pillow.

I breathed into her hair, stroking the fine strands along her forehead, wishing I could give her a world much different than the one we lived in.

"I'll find a way back to you," I whispered into her ear softly. "I promise."

She pulled my hand away, bringing it down and wrapping it around her waist. Our fingers intertwined, yellow against white, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

She breathed softly and I kissed the side of her neck, drawing her closer to me until we were practically one. My lips lingered at her collarbone, relishing her soft skin. She moaned, half-sleepily, and my mind went places it should have never went. But I couldn't focus on that at the moment.

So I lay there, soaking in love and devotion, desperate for a day when we would no longer need to hide or pretend like we weren't doing anything wrong.

And it hurt, knowing that day may never come.


	12. North Star

Cherry and Cinny- I hid there lurking, wincing, writing strange things that didn't mean much on paper. You peeked and you saw something. "Change," you said. "Keep it going, Happening." So I did and I thank you. I've got Lincoln's heart and you have mine.

Readers- You're beautiful, reading words I never thought you would. Don't look for a happy ending, child. You already found it in a treehouse, long ago.

See y'all on Monday!

 _UPDATE: Beta Lover Blueeyedcherry has written a beautiful piece on FicSisters for Birmingham. She never stops. I love you so. TY TY hun! Go check it out!_

* * *

 **Chapter 12: North Star**

" _When you get real old, honey, you realize there are certain things that just don't matter anymore. You lay it all on the table. There's a saying that only little children and old folks tell the truth."_

 _~Sarah Louise Delaney_

 _(IPOV)_

I couldn't even count the amount of times Father used the N-word.

He knocked several chairs over while yelling obscenities and telling me what a disgrace I was to the Swan name. Each threat was intentionally cruel and malicious, reminding me how I would never see Lincoln again.

"No daughter of mine!" he continuously repeated.

"I'll kill him, damn it!"

"If I so much even _think_ you are seeing that fucking animal …"

I lied about where I was and how I escaped. I told him that I didn't see Esme run into the yard or know how she must have been the one to set Lincoln free. I lied and said that Jenks found me in town and made me come home.

The fibs rolled off of my tongue, each one more bitter than the last. I glared at Mother, standing there looking aloof and apologetic, and saying nothing.

Negroes weren't the only ones who knew their place. Mother had found hers too, and her feet were cemented in a pool of obedience and compliance.

My mouth ran dry as Father pointed towards the stairs, signaling me to go my room. I didn't think he'd allow me to leave ever again and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a bolt already installed. I obliged and crossed the marble floor, sulking and taking heavy steps weighed with my own guilt.

I slammed my door, finally taking off my kitten heels, and lay across the bed. My hair was a knotted mess and my dress was stained, but I didn't bother changing or showering. My heart throbbed and my eyes burned from crying so much.

I didn't have any tears left, just a small beacon of hope that ignited within me. Lincoln promised—no, he swore on his life—he'd meet me tomorrow in town. I didn't know how he'd do it or if he'd actually follow through, but I was holding on to his word like an oath made in blood. I trusted him more than I trusted my own family. He loved me without reason, when I wasn't even worth loving, and I loved him back for one of many reasons.

I felt it in every heartbeat, in every ounce of blood that flowed in my veins. Perhaps I was consumed, having never loved a boy, and maybe that left me naïve, but I didn't know anything else. After yesterday I would do anything to protect Lincoln. I didn't have the nerve to tell him that, but I would defy Father over and over again if it meant being with him.

I sighed, my eyes betraying me with tears, as I rolled over and hugged my pillow. I inhaled his faint scent, pulling it close to my nose. I closed my eyes, prepared to drift off into a fantasy land filled with dragons and castles and knights who truly existed in real life.

Perhaps I didn't know much about young love, but I knew Lincoln.

I exhaled, dreaming of the boy who had forever changed my life.

.

.

.

"Miss Scarlett?"

A soft knock thudded against the door and I stirred in my sleep.

"Miss Scarlett?"

Exhausted, I peeked toward the entrance of my room, where Jenks had opened the door and was holding a silver tray.

"Come in," I moaned. I wiped my face, sticky with sweat and dried tears, as Jenks approached the bed.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Miss Scarlett. Mrs. Swan thought it be time you eat some supper. I can't cook as good as Esme, but I did my best." He laid the tray on my nightstand, standing back with folded hands.

"Thanks, Jenks.."

"It's my pleasure, Miss Scarlett." Jenks nodded his head and spun on the soles of his black shoes. He'd changed into cleaner attire, clothing that was free of sweat, and his shirt was pressed and ironed. He wasn't wearing his gloves for once and his gray hair seemed even grayer today, as if one day in his world was like living a lifetime.

"You don't have to do that."

Jenks stopped, turning mid-way to look at me. His dark brown eyes and wrinkled skin reflected a man with more knowledge than my Father had ever acquired with his Ivy League education. "Do what, Miss Scarlett?"

"That," I said firmly, sitting upright in the bed. "Calling me Miss and treating me with respect. Helping my friends and helping me ..." I glanced down, ashamed of my actions.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asked. "These old feet are worn out today."

I nodded, gesturing to the chair beside my bed. It was the same one I'd pulled up to sit inches away from Lincoln when I was too much of a coward to know any better.

"I was born a lifetime ago," he began, glancing off into the distance. "I was born in a shed, where my own maw and papa were slaves. It was miracle they'd stayed together, 'cause most Negros was separated, families torn apart. But somehow, my folks stayed together. My maw used to tell me I was born under the North Star, the one she prayed under for blacks to be free."

"What's your first name?" I asked curiously. I'd always called him Jenks. It hadn't mattered to me before, but now it seemed important.

Jenks smiled, the lines around his mouth spreading upward. "One day, when we ain't got silk and silver platters sitting between us, I'd be happy to tell you, Miss Scarlett."

I half-grinned because for once even though he was defying me, I knew he had his reasons. "Well, go on. You were born under the North Star …"

"Ahh, yes. Maw used to tell me, ' _Baby, one day these white folks ain't gonna look at us as slaves. They gonna look at us like people with real blood and feelings and love running through us._ ' I ain't believe her 'cause she'd come back with her back split open and her face crushed in. She'd been raped, beaten, burned, and knocked out 'til we couldn't even recognize her."

"Oh Jenks! That's awful!" I gasped and felt such pity for him. I didn't know what I'd do if someone had treated Mother that way.

"Yessiree, it was tough times. You see, the President signed that paper, but it didn't mean nothing. Black folks didn't have nowhere to go. They were stuck in the exact place they were sold. My kin is buried on a plantation out in Georgia. I hope the good Lord lets me see them before I die."

A knot was stuck in my throat and I was close to crying all over again. I couldn't imagine how life was for him and frankly, I'd never asked. "I hope you do too, Jenks."

"Thank you, Miss Scarlett. The reason I'm telling you this is 'cause my maw was right. White folks will look at us with real blood and feelings and love. You know how I know that?"

I shook my head, silently fumbling with my comforter.

"'Cause of you, Miss Scarlett. In all of my 91 years, I ain't never had a white look upon me in pity like you did that one day Mister Charles …" He trailed off, swallowing. "But, you did. And pity? That's something. It means you're starting to feel. And you gave me them cookies and it was the kindest thing."

 _Cookies? Jenks was thanking me for cookies?_

I gawked at him in astonishment. "Jenks, I treated you horribly! I am so sorry. I've pushed you and called you names and then you helped me save Lincoln and—"

I couldn't help myself. It had been an emotional rollercoaster and the waterworks flooded down my face. Jenks reached out his hand, smiling at me fondly.

"You hush that cryin', Miss Scarlett. No need to apologize. I think some folks are born racist and, well, others are taught. You're the latter and you've done more than enough to make it for it."

I placed my trembling hand in his and he covered it with his other one. "I want you to do me a favor. You keep loving that Lincoln boy. That's the kind of love that's gonna change this world. It's going to flip it upside down and when it does, I'm gonna stand at my maw and papa's graves, telling them there's a lil' white girl out in Alabama who done good. I'm gonna tell 'em all about you and them cookies and how you love folks like they're real."

I smiled through my tears and Jenks let go of my hand and stood up, brushing off his trousers. "Eat that soup 'fore it gets cold. You can't meet that boy on an empty stomach."

I glanced up at him, surprised by his comment, but Jenks just laughed. "Slaves were smart. They built homes so they could hear their masters coming with a vengeance. Thin walls here and thin walls at the Masen house, Miss Scarlett."

I blushed and Jenks grinned back, giving me a wink before walking out of my bedroom. He closed the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar.

We hadn't been fooling anybody. Jenks knew all along Lincoln was here. Instead of being angry, I reached over for the tray, setting it in my lap. The hot broth tasted spicy on my tongue and though it wasn't as good as Esme's, it was just right.

.

.

.

The next morning when I woke up, it was quiet. I showered and dressed in a pale green dress with swirled patterns, a matching ribbon, and tiny pearl earrings. I finally peeked out of my doorway. Jenks was standing at the bottom of the stairs, dusting. I assumed he had to fill in for Esme and hoped he wasn't wearing himself too thin.

"You can come on out, Miss Scarlett. Heard Mister Charles on the phone and he'll working late. Mrs. Swan's out at the agency looking for a new housekeeper and running errands. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."

"I don't want to get you into trouble, Jenks."

He laughed, moving his feather duster along the railing. "Hard being old. Shame these eyes don't see like they used too."

I squealed and grinned, running back to grab my purse. Jenks could see plenty and I took that for my cue to leave. I jetted down the stairs, taking two at a time. "Thank you!"

"You tell that Mister Lincoln I said 'hi'."

I nodded, waving goodbye and heading out the front door. It was nice and bright outside, and I hoped that was a sign it would be a good day. Several neighbors waved as I walked down the sidewalk and I hummed to myself, nearly skipping along the way. I glanced around once in a while, hoping Mother wouldn't arrive home early, but it wasn't her. I thought of all the things I would say to Lincoln when I finally saw him and blushed to myself at all of the things I couldn't.

I was so busy in my thoughts that I arrived on the busy street corner sometime after 10 a.m. It wasn't too busy for a Friday, but the signs posted on the opposite side of the street alerted me of the impending change. _Freedom Rally, this Saturday, beginning at noon._

There wasn't a single white store with the posters on its windows. It was as if they thought it would never happen if they looked the other way. I knew Lincoln had mentioned his father attending and I hoped he would be safe.

I had directed Lincoln to the only safe place I knew of, the Olden Golden Thrift Shop. I crossed the street and arrived there to find Nessie outside with a wooden broom, sweeping the sidewalk. She grinned when she saw me and swept debris into the street.

"Scarlett! How wonderful to see you again. Is your mother with you?"

I shook my head. "No ma'am. I'm, uh, waiting here for … a friend."

"On the wrong side to be by yourself, don't you think?" Nessie glanced at me worriedly and stopped sweeping to hold the broom under her arm.

"I think he'll blend in," I answered nonchalantly.

Nessie laughed, her brown skin almost sparkling in the sun. "He, is it? I should have known that necklace wasn't for you! Well, don't hang out here too long. Folks are riled up, just waiting on an excuse to act stupid. If you need anything, I'll be right inside."

"Thanks." I shifted nervously as Nessie went back into the store. I paced back and forth, counting the cracks in the sidewalk and ants crawling in rows. By the time I had finished, I glanced upward.

It was him.

Lincoln!

He was dressed in the same clothes of Father's I had given him long ago, and I hadn't even realized he took them the last time. He strolled down the white side, bravely walking with a hat I'd never seen before and a limp in his step. His face was still slightly bruised, even from afar, but he was as handsome as he'd always been.

He smiled when he saw me, tipping the worn brown hat with a hole on the side. He half-hobbled, half-ran to me, crushing me as he wrapped his arms around me. The hat fell off and beneath was a shaved head. "Scarlett!"

He placed both hands on my cheeks and kissed me passionately, making me feel dizzy on my feet. I closed my eyes just to feel every emotion and every part of him. I didn't think I'd ever get used to it—not him, not ever.

I pulled back first, laughing. "That's quite the hello!"

He shrugged, smirking with that beautiful cocky smile, and finally bent over to retrieve his hat. "I'm not even close to being done. C'mon!"

He grabbed my hand and we ran to the whites only side, crossing the street and flying past a hair salon and boutique. I huffed, trying to catch up in my heels. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see!" He yelled back, grinning and holding onto his hat with his free hand. We nearly knocked over an older couple along the way, but they moved over just in time. He crossed an alley and ran to a rusted blue door, jerking it open. I jumped through the entrance after him and it slammed shut.

The building was completely empty and dark except for the light piercing through the high windows. Lincoln dragged a steel beam from the middle of the floor and propped it against the door. He breathed heavily, excited we were finally together.

"How'd you find this place?" I asked, glancing around. "And where'd you get the hat?"

He held out his hand in a grand motion. "This, my princess Scarlett, is our newest castle. Courtesy of Jenks, might I add. He told me about this warehouse yesterday, but I had trouble finding it. That's why I was late. And the hat I found in the dumpster."

I laughed, wrinkling my nose. "That's gross."

"It's mine, that's what it is," he boasted proudly, spinning the hat to the floor. "As are you."

He lifted me in his arms, twirling me around in the musty, dark room. It didn't matter. It was a sanctuary, a place we could call our own with not a single dragon coming after us. I had my knight in dumpster armor and he was absolutely perfect.

"How'd you manage to sneak out?" I asked breathlessly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He kissed me softly, first my lips, then my nose.

"I didn't."

"What?" I asked astonished. What did that mean?

"I tried," he explained, "but let me tell you, my ma is no fool. She caught me climbing out the window, made me promise not to tell Pa, and drove me to the stoplight."

"She knows you're here?!" I couldn't believe it. Here I was, scared of every passing vehicle, and he just breezed down the street like it was nothing—and with Esme's permission at that.

"Not _here_ here," he emphasized. "Ma thinks I'm meeting you for some shows. Or at least that's what she nodded at. Like I said, she's no fool."

I had a million questions but none of them seemed important at the moment. The whys or hows didn't matter; the only relevant thing was him. I smiled involuntarily. Everything about Lincoln made me happy. I felt overwhelmed in his presence, but the excited kind of overwhelmed, like the knots I got in my stomach on Christmas morning. Only he was the best kind of present, one I would treasure forever.

He seemed to read my mind and he lowered his mouth to mine. The room smelled stale, as if it hadn't been clean in years, but I barely registered the thought. His hands strummed down my cheeks, along my collarbone, and tickled me on my arms. I shuddered and he chuckled against my lips. "You're not cold, are you?"

I shook my head, blushing and hoping he didn't notice in the dimly lit room. "No. It's just you."

He groaned and our lips met once more, this time with a hunger he'd never revealed in the treehouse or in my room. He kissed me roughly, pressing his body against me and walking me backward until my back hit the cement wall with a thud. I waited for the excruciating pain, but his hands were behind my head to help cushion it.

Lincoln only parted our lips to breathe into my mouth, whispering my name. "I love you, Scarlett Swan."

I wanted to repeat my devotion, every word filled with meaning, until he grinded against me. I felt a large lump press against my belly button and gasped.

I was young and inexperienced and naïve in the worst way possible, but I knew some things. Alice made sure of it when I was 13 and she told me all about her and her boyfriend and the things they did.

And now it was happening to me.

I was caught between being excited and feeling faint. Lincoln pulled back, shaking his head and stuttering. "I'm sorry. I … uh … damnit! I just …"

I was just as embarrassed as he was, if not more, but I bravely sought his green eyes out in the shadowy light. "It's okay, Lincoln. I, um, was just caught off guard, I think."

"I'm a gentleman, Scarlett. I wasn't trying to make you do things," he whispered softly. "I just got too eager, that's all."

 _I'll say,_ I thought sarcastically. But inside, I was thrilled it was because of me.

"You don't have to stop," I murmured shyly. I liked it. Maybe it was the darkness giving me false courage, but it was all that Lincoln needed. He moaned and it sent shivers to places no boy had ever seen. He moved his hands from me and before I could protest what he was doing, he had unbuttoned his collared shirt and spread it on the hard, cement floor. There was something terrifying about this moment, but also something wonderful too.

He held my hand, guiding me downward and kissing me again. He tasted of soft mint candy and cigarettes, a combination that was such a reflection of him. We moved our lips firmly and when he guided me on my back, I didn't even protest.

Lincoln's tongue licked me along my jaw and traveled to the soft spot below my ear. It felt good and new and intimidating, with him hovering just over me. I ran my fingers down the t-shirt he still wore, just along his spine, and he pushed his lower half against mine. I tensed as a jolt shot through my body, one of need accompanied by aches that didn't hurt.

His hand moved slowly along my outer right thigh and he adjusted my leg so that it curved upward, with my knee bent. Lincoln thrust into me again, making my dress slide higher and higher up my legs. I was trying to relax, but everything about what was happening was making me squirm.

Lincoln paused, his lips lingering near my ear. "Too much?"

I was too busy enjoying the sensations, trying to figure out the strange feelings sparking in places I had never ever touched myself. I'd never tried to pleasure myself before, unlike Alice who was not ashamed to tell me what to do in perfect detail. But this—having a boy like Lincoln—was also new territory. I didn't get a chance to figure it all out as he bit-sucked the side of my neck and grinded into me again.

I gasped in his ear, clawing at his back so that he would continue. I understood this wasn't "making love," as my cousin so aptly named it, but if this was what it was like, I craved more. Lincoln's hand journeyed down to my left breast, which he lightly squeezed. He groaned in response, lifting his hips and pounding against my center.

"Lincoln!" I was barely able to half-scream his name when he sped up his movements, plunging against me again and again. An intense feeling made my legs tremble and my heart race and everything in me seem to multiply as he cradled and thrust me against the shirt-covered floor. My breath hitched as I felt chills run through and over me.

I'd never, ever had so much passion and adoration for someone as I had for Edward Lincoln. He made me want to be a better person for others, but he also made me want to be perfect for him. I nudged his lips until he kissed me again frantically. I couldn't tell if the heat was from me or him, but it didn't matter. My skin, my heart, and my lungs … everything burned for him. I moaned as our wet mouths moved simultaneously. I could feel him breathing erratically as he tried to keep up the kisses, but he couldn't.

"Scarlett … I …" Lincoln buried his lips and face in my neck and gripped me much too tightly. He groaned—thrusting, thrusting, thrusting at a maddening pace—before holding his body still against mine. He held himself there, shivering and trembling as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Fuck! I am so …" He couldn't decide whether he should apologize or gasp for air. I giggled against him, thinking that I knew what had happened. I felt a sore throb at my center, but hearing him pant was worth the subsiding tingles. "It wasn't supposed to be like that."

I shrugged. I didn't know what anything was supposed to be like and I know he didn't as well.

"I think it felt like it was supposed to," I told him as he sat up, helping me pull the hem of my dress down.

"But you didn't, do, you know." He frowned at his pants and I had the sinking suspicion he was wet and uncomfortable.

I smiled, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"That's the best thing about having our own castle," I giggled. "We can do it again tomorrow."

I think I'd underestimated Lincoln Masen, because in his world, tomorrow was not promised.

I realized there was no point in arguing with him. After 16 years of hiding, he had every right to kiss me over and over again.

So when he rolled his eyes, called me Princess Scarlett, and pulled me on top of him as he lay on his back, I let him.

Tomorrow could wait.


	13. Searching

**Goodness, how I've missed you. Thanks for standing by while I take time to recuperate. I've had some health issues, but I'm back on track and feeling better. TY for rejoining me! Feel free to reread if you need a refresher. We will go back to our MWF postings and this story will be complete with 20 chaps! :)**

 **PM Messages- Wow, TY for all of the messages. I will respond to you later today.**

 **TY Cherry and Cinny for all your hard work. You are loved and most greatly appreciated!**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Searching**

 _"We all do 'do, re, mi,' but you have got to find the other notes yourself."_

 _~Louis Armstrong_

 _(EPOV)_

If I thought for a single second I could hide my pre-fornicating ways from Pa, I was wrong. The man had suspicious eyes that glared at me as he bit into a piece of greasy, fried chicken.

Ma nervously took a sip of water, avoiding my gaze and trying to act like she wasn't my accomplice in meeting Scarlett earlier that day. I'd done a lot that summer—hiding in the back of Ma's truck, sneaking into town with Scarlett, nearly getting killed by Mr. Swan—but now Ma was involved, and she wasn't exactly the best liar. She tapped her foot against the linoleum floor as Pa's gaze switched back and forth between us.

He wiped his mouth of the back of his hand and huffed. "What did you two do today?"

"Nothing," Ma and I said simultaneously.

"Huh." Pa nodded and scooped a large forkful of collard greens into his mouth. "So you didn't go anywhere?"

"Nope," I replied, biting into my own chicken leg. "Just hung out."

"And rested," Ma added. "You know how tired I've been. So I slept. Didn't get out of bed at all. Come to think of it, I might be coming down with something. The flu, perhaps. Or a cold. Most likely the flu."

She coughed dramatically and I kicked her leg beneath the table.

"It's summer," Pa reminded her.

"Allergies," Ma continued hacking. "Can't even breathe with all this pollen. I'm surprised I even made supper."

"Me too," Pa said slowly. "I had my own surprise today."

"Oh?"

"Sure did. Embry was sent out into town to pick up some more cotton sacks at the mill."

"Is that so?"

"Yessiree. But he returned and told me the funniest thing. He claimed he saw my wife, in town, with another man."

Ma choked and immediately shook her head. "That's not true!"

"That's what I told him. 'My Esme would never do such a thing.' Then he told me it wasn't just any man; it was a younger gentleman who wore a hat. And it got me to thinking … either my wife is cheating on me or she snuck my son into town after I already forbid it!"

My eyes grew wide and Ma started wailing. "Oh, Carlisle! I'm so sorry! Lincoln was going to leave and I couldn't let him go out by himself! He loves that girl! We can't just let them never see each other! He'll die of a broken heart. Look at him, Carlisle! He needs her. You remember us at that age, don't you?"

Pa slammed his fist on the table, rocking the wooden legs and causing our glasses to shake. "Esme, that's not the damn point! Are you trying to get him killed? They've got that rally tomorrow. Folks are just looking for a reason to hurt a Negro!"

I sighed, interrupting before Ma could flood the kitchen with her tears. "Pa, it's not Ma's fault. It's mine. I wanted to see Scarlett."

"Have you learned nothing?" Pa yelled, pushing himself away from the table. His chair scrapped the floor and Ma winced. "Was hanging from a tree not good enough for you? Do you want bullets? A whip? Dogs to rip you apart limb by limb? What Lincoln? What's it gonna take for you to realize y'all will never be together?"

Anger brewed inside of me. Why couldn't he just understand Scarlett and I were meant to be? That other stuff didn't matter. I would do whatever it took to be with her. "Pa, you can't tell me what to do! You're so scared something bad's gonna happen, you're not even trying to see the good! We're in love. If you and Ma made it, so can we!"

Pa shook his head. "No, Lincoln. That's not the same. Your Grandpa Lincoln accepted me. Mr. Swan ain't got a forgiving bone in his racist body! And even if he did, you and that girl still couldn't be together! You're yellow, Lincoln. If Mr. Swan doesn't kill you, the rest of Birmingham will!"

"And being yellow is somehow _my_ fault?" I stood up, ignoring my half-eaten supper. "YOU are the one who fell for a white girl! YOU got married and YOU are the one who had an illegal baby. Now you expect me to stay locked up because of your mistakes? No, Pa, I won't. I'm gonna live my own life whether you like it or not! Maybe next time you'll keep your dick in your pants!"

"EDWARD LINCOLN!" Ma gasped at my language and I shook angrily.

Pa's expression transformed from one of rage to one of pity, but I didn't want his sympathy. I was tired of him telling me what to do when he lived a life of hypocrisy. Maybe Scarlett and me's relationship _was_ different, but we deserved happiness too. It was our God-given right to be free and love each other, and Pa couldn't stop us.

I wouldn't let him.

I stormed towards the kitchen counter and grabbed the truck keys. The raised metal stabbed the heated skin of my palm and I glared at both of them. "I'm leaving."

"Don't go!" Ma cried. "Lincoln, you can't even drive!"

"I'll figure it out. And don't worry about me getting caught, I'll stay hidden. Lucky for you, it's the one thing I was born to do."

Pa opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it. I could tell he was fighting himself internally, battling between wanting to keep me close or rip me a new one. It didn't matter—nothing he said was going to change my mind.

"You know, Pa, I know how everybody else sees me. I know I'm an abomination in their eyes, rotting meat for them to hang. But when my own Pa tells me I'm yellow—when my own flesh and blood sees nothing but what they see—that's when I know I'm not worth anything."

I paused, letting my words sink into his soul and cut through every ounce of his being. "Don't come looking for me. I'll be out searching for the parts of myself that you can't mix with a paintbrush."

I ran out of the kitchen, into the living room, and out of the front door. The wood bounced behind me and Ma yelled my name over and over. By the time she made it out onto the porch, I was in the truck with the engine rumbling over the sound of her voice.

She would forgive me, eventually. Perhaps Pa would too, but I no longer cared.

There was only one person I wanted to see at the moment, and as I drove down the long, winding road, I put my family and the rest of the world behind me.

.

.

.

I waited until nightfall before I finally parked outside Scarlett's gated community. It took three pebbles to her bedroom window and a loud whispered, "Come down," but she eventually followed me to the treehouse in the woods. By the time we reached the top, I collapsed in a heap of misery and regret. I pulled my knees up to my chin and moaned, trying my best not to cry in front of my girl.

"You should have heard him, Scarlett! He's selfish! He doesn't give a shit about me! He just doesn't want me to get caught 'cause then that means he'll be the one in trouble!"

"Lincoln …" Scarlett rubbed my head as she scooted in front of me.

"He was threatening me; death this and murder that! Like the entire world is out to get me. It's bad, I know, but I made it out in public today. He doesn't even take that into account!"

"Lincoln …"

"I just want to run away sometimes. Get away from this hellhole! Out of Birmingham, out of Alabama; just leave and never look back! We could do it, Scarlett! We'd go someplace like Virginia, where it's safe."

Scarlett sighed and pried my head off of my arms by lifting my chin. "It's not that easy, Lincoln. We can't just run away. My father would have the entire east coast police looking for us."

I groaned loudly as common sense finally overcame me. I knew what she said was true. I was just venting. For once, I wanted to not think about the messed up life I was born into. It wasn't fair. And maybe I sounded like a damn child, but it was the truth.

"I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. You have no idea what it's like to only be judged by what you look like. I can read, Scarlett, words that folks from universities can't even pronounce. I've learned how to cook from Ma, fancy meals with seasonings that would make your tongue jump for joy. And I'm kind, Scarlett. I've got this whole family of rabbits in my yard I've been taking care of, and they let me pet them and everything. I'm Edward Lincoln. Not white, or black, or yellow … just Edward Lincoln. How come folks don't want to see that?"

She stroked the stubble along my jaw, her eyes watering at my pain. The green ribbon in her hair somehow made her eyes gleam, and I was grateful just to be in her presence again.

"You _are_ all of those things, but they're blind," she said softly. "Forget everything else. Your father, mine, everything. They don't matter."

She was right, as usual. They _didn't_ matter, but somehow our relationship always consisted of a triangle, with our parents disapproving of our every move.

"Stay with me?" I asked with a tone of hopefulness.

"Always."

She said that one simple word, filled with promises of a future I had always dreamed about. Her brown eyes met mine and I leaned in, pressing my lips against hers. She was my safe haven, the one constant when everything around us was changing and threatening to rip us apart.

I broke the kiss first, running my nose along her cheek and across her jaw. She smelled heavenly, like springtime and flowers and all of the good in the world. I stared at her intensely, thinking about the day when people would decide our skin color didn't matter, and if she would ever marry me. I could envision it, but I wondered if she could too.

I raised my hand slowly to stroke my thumb across her full bottom lip. Scarlett blushed and ducked her head shyly.

"Are you scared?" I whispered.

Scarlett shook her head, confused. "About Mother and Father? No, they're out at a dinner with Father's fancy board members. I stuffed my bed with pillows, just in case."

I chuckled at her innocence, hypnotized by her sparkling eyes. "I meant about us."

Scarlett tilted her head, blinked once, and then inhaled a sharp breath. "No! Yes! I mean, about you, not at all. But we … and I've … never …"

She babbled incoherently and I kissed her forehead. It calmed her momentarily and she sighed.

"I have a confession," I murmured. "I'm scared shitless."

"Really? Why?"

""Cause," I began, "I'm in this treehouse with you, and we're alone, and I've got thoughts running through my head that aren't very gentleman like. I want to be with you, physically, and it's terrifying."

Scarlett's face reflected a myriad of emotions, most of them unreadable. She spoke so quietly I wasn't sure I heard her. "I won't say no."

"I know," I whispered. "And that's what frightens me."

She hummed beneath her breath and what little self-control I had left disappeared somewhere in Alabama night sky. Our small space was quiet, except for the sounds of our heavy breathing and quickened heart beats. With my knees already propped up, I spread my legs on each side of her, taking her small, fragile hands in mine. I stared at them, smiling, wondering how on earth I got so lucky.

"I can't believe I used to be so scared to touch you," she said, staring at our fingers that were linked together.

"You couldn't help it, Scarlett. You didn't know any better."

She shook her head, disagreeing. "I should have. I think I was too consumed with what society and Father expected of me, and I just … I tried to hide what I was feeling for you. I think I liked you the first day we ever met."

"That's not surprising," I joked. "A sweaty teenage boy, a rusty truck, the lure of a forbidden affair … it has all the makings of a love story."

Scarlett giggled, her brown curls sweeping over her shoulder. "I mean it. I was attracted to you then and horrified that I was. I'm sorry, Lincoln, for even thinking that way."

"Stop it," I said harshly. "That's done and over with. We're here now, together, and there's nothing you need to apologize for."

I brought our enjoined hands to my face, grazing my lips gently over each of her knuckles. She was nervous; I could tell by the slight dampness of her palm. I would never, ever do anything to hurt her and I hoped she knew that. I wished I could tell what she was feeling. Scarlett was strong in some ways, but when it came to emotions she was a closed box, and to pry her open required time that neither of us had.

"Can you hold on a second?" I blurted out. Scarlett's brows furrowed together as I let go of her hands. She let them fall onto her pale green dress, the same one she'd wore earlier that day. I pulled the skunk necklace over my head, fumbling with the silver chain. The links were looped together and I wrenched them apart. I sat quietly and worked until I'd loosened a small section. I fixed the original necklace and placed it back around my neck. I took the links I'd removed and formed them into a small circle, which I enclosed in my hand.

"Scarlett, I …" Suddenly I was nervous, as if this moment required bravery I never quite had. But I had to continue. I had to tell Scarlett how I felt, even if it meant making a complete and utter fool of myself. "We … when I first …"

"Lincoln, breathe."

It's what Scarlett always told me when I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack. I heeded her advice, inhaling air into my lungs and exhaling slowly. She had this way of making me feel calm, and I willed myself to relax. Taking her left hand in mine, I continued.

"I once read you that story, you know the one about the fairy tale with the dragon? After all these years, I realized why it was my favorite. It wasn't because the knight and princess fell in love. It was because the knight saved the princess. He did it with selflessness and humility, and lived for someone other than himself. Scarlett, I'm no knight. I have no armor and even if I had a sword, I wouldn't know what to do with it. But I do have one weapon. It's strong and mighty and it will defend you until the day I die. It's my heart. And maybe it's not worth much, and it won't slay a dragon, but it will protect you. I will always keep you safe, shielding you from whatever this world has to throw at us …"

Rubbing Scarlett's hand gently, I continued. "You are my princess and I will always treat you as such. It is an absolute honor to love you, and I will do so for the rest of my life, if you'll let me. Scarlett Swan, will you … one day … marry me?"

Scarlett froze with watery eyes and I could feel the wave of tension and gut—wrenching silence loom over us. Her hesitation was like a knife, cutting me to my core. I groaned, berating myself for such stupidity. Of course she would never marry someone like me. I was so dumb and naïve, thinking she would ever—

"Yes."

I glanced up and Scarlett was nodding, tears streaming down her face.

"Yes?" I repeated.

She smiled, her hand trembling in mine, and I grinned back like an idiot. I laughed, cradling her cheeks in my hands and kissing her passionately. She giggled between our teeth—knocking and wet lips.

"Shit!" I dropped the homemade ring somewhere on the floor and I scrambled to find it. The cold metal touched my fingertips and I lifted it up carefully, sliding it onto her left ring finger.

"I love you, Scarlett."

"I love you too, Lincoln."

We grinned stupidly at each other, wrapped in a cocoon of teenage bliss and pledged vows made in an old treehouse, pledging vows that neither of us quite understood. But we were happy.

Love swelled in my chest and I wrapped her in my arms. Being with her was so soul consuming, so intense it overrode everything we'd fought for in that moment. It was a love that couldn't be broken or even shaken. We were the kind of love that shattered expectations and rules and unfounded laws that didn't make sense where the heart was concerned. For once in my life, I was proud of that. I was proud of being me and being my skin color, because everything that I was had brought me to Scarlett.

"Lincoln?" Scarlett breathed my name softly in my ear. "Will you love me now?"

I was so full of emotion I thought I'd explode. I pulled away from her slowly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I don't want you to feel like we … um, have to. I'm okay with holding you, Scarlett."

She folded her hands timidly in her lap. "I know, but I, uh, I want to."

I glanced around at the rotting wood, rumpled blanket, and the stack of books jumbled in the corner. I wanted our first time to be special, planned out and in a place that was as beautiful as she was. Scarlett was used to silk sheets and fine linens and chandeliers. This was not even close. She noticed my expression and lifted her hand to turn my head towards her. "Please?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I crushed my lips to hers, placing my hand behind her head as I pushed her onto her back. We kissed passionately, tongues and teeth forcefully devouring one another. I felt the wave of heat come from her body, but I wanted to show her I cared. This was going to change everything and I wanted her to know I understood what it meant. Her hands gripped my shoulders as I hovered over her, holding up my weight so I didn't crush her against the thin blanket and hard wood. I was losing my breath from our frantic kiss, but I didn't stop. I needed her more than air.

I felt myself getting hard in my trousers and I had to remind myself to go slow. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but that was the best part about it. We would always have this to share, to remember every aspect of this night.

Scarlett clawed at my beige shirt and I used the moment to pull away, yanking it over my head. Her fingertips danced across my chest, exploring skin no one else had ever touched before.

I glanced down at her, her sparkling eyes gazing at me intensely. I wanted to feel every part of her and take my time, but I was unsure of how slowly I would be able to go.

"May I?" I whispered, my hands traveling along her scooped neckline. She nodded and sat up partway so I could unzip the back of her dress. I fumbled with it when I reached the middle of her back and she giggled shyly, reaching around to jerk the zipper downward. The dress slid down her arms, falling to a pool at her waist.

Her white brassiere was silk was lace, the cups covering her breasts completely. She was breathtakingly perfect and I felt tingles of excitement run along my abdomen. Scarlett appeared scared, quite nervous at her exposed skinned and I bent over, placing soft kisses along her neck. She relaxed slightly and I reached around to unhook the clasps of the expensive material. I pulled the straps down her arms and tossed it somewhere behind me.

"You're beautiful," I assured her. "My pretty, pretty princess."

Scarlett moaned at my whispered words and the sound shot straight to my groin. Her eyes closed, as if all she wanted to do was feel and hear. I allowed her a moment of shyness as I kissed and licked beneath her ear. She shuddered beneath me and I used the opportunity to run my hand across her chest. She gasped at the sensation, her rose colored nipples perking up immediately.

Scarlett's hands gripped the blanket beneath her and I placed soft kisses across her heated flesh. I used one hand to gently massage her left breast while my tongue grazed over the other. She squirmed beneath me, making inaudible noises that I hoped were a good thing.

"Is this okay?" I asked quietly, looking up at her. She refused to open her eyes but her fingers met the back of my head and moved me back to my previous position. I took her motion as a permissible 'yes' and sucked tenderly on her nipple. I gripped her left breast more firmly, eventually using my fingers to flick her raised bud back and forth.

"Lincoln …" Scarlett sang my name and I switched sides as she bucked beneath me. I could stay there and do this forever; anything to make her feel like I did and watch her cheeks flush red. I wanted to move slowly but the skin beneath her breasts called to me. I moved my mouth down her stomach, but replaced it with my other hand. Alternating between flicking and rubbing, I used my lips to brush across her skin. I reached her belly button and dipped my tongue inward, kissing every sliver of flesh presented to me.

Blocked by her dress, I finally removed my hands to tug it slowly down her legs. She locked her knees together and I lifted her legs to take off the material. She lay in only a pair of white panties that matched the brassiere she had on earlier. Scarlett was trembling so badly, I needed to know if I should stop. I would, if she wanted me to. I wanted her, without a doubt, but I craved her love and respect more.

"Scarlett?" Her eyelashes fluttered and she looked down in fear. "We can stop, okay?"

"No!" She yelled a bit too loudly and I chuckled. "I mean, don't! I'm just nervous."

I nodded, completely understanding, and scooted upward to kiss her lips. She moaned into my mouth as I held one hand under her head. I used the other to travel across her breast, down her mid-section, and right to the hem of her underwear. I paused, giving her an out, but when she kissed me forcefully, I roamed into the white silk, rubbing small, firm circles.

Scarlett gasped in my mouth, taking my own breath with hers. I mumbled sweet words against her lips as she squirmed from my movements.

She was a ball of nerves, caught between wanting me and clenching her thighs together. "Open your legs, baby."

She hesitated and then spread her legs further apart as I licked and kissed along her collarbone. I pressed my palm against her center and slowly pushed one finger inside of her. She shivered from my touch, breathing against my ear.

"I love you so much," I murmured. Scarlett whimpered and her hips raised in the air as if her body had a mind of its own. I loved seeing her react like this, all because of me. I blew against her neck, watching her fluttering eyes as I applied harder pressure with my hand, inserting a second finger. It was like electricity shot through her and she squirmed, searching for my lips. I obliged, kissing her deeply when her body suddenly went paralyzed. She tensed, half-screaming into my mouth, and quivered as my fingers sped up their movements. Scarlett trembled and her legs shook as she cried out my name. I groaned at her spasms, holding my hand in place as she rode out her orgasm. The tension slowly released from her muscles and my kiss softened as I stroked her gently.

I sat I silence, gazing at her chest as it rose and fell. Her expression told me everything I wanted to know and her shallow breaths became full again as she struggled to absorb what had just happened. I smiled, pressing my lips along her shoulder and collarbone.

"How did that feel?" I asked after a moment. I couldn't help but smirk—it was the cocky side of me that slipped out unconsciously.

"Like you don't know," she finally answered and I chuckled out loud.

"I told you you'd like it swirled," I joked, and Scarlett slapped me teasingly on the arm. It only made me laugh harder and I moved so that I hovered over her, running my fingers through her hair. "I wish you could see what I do. You're so beautiful Scarlett."

"So are you," she murmured lovingly, caressing the fine hairs along my jaw. "I wish you knew that."

Something tugged at my heartstrings, pulling roughly without my consent. I had my own issues with insecurity, a combination of self-hatred and self-doubt brought on by life's circumstances. It was a part of me I never shared with anyone, but I had the sinking feeling Scarlett saw right through me.

"You may not love yourself," Scarlett said softly, "but I do."

She sat up, pushing her weight against mine until she maneuvered us into an upright position. She ran her fingers across my bare chest, exploring every aspect of me. I shivered from her touch, her milky skin moving over my darker colored own. Scarlett gazed at me with appreciation and love and an endless amount of acceptance I had never known before. It was overwhelming and I found myself looking away.

Scarlett turned my chin, reminding me that she wasn't going anywhere. She kissed me softly, pushing against my chest until I was the one on my back. My skin tingled and I felt afraid that I wasn't the one in control. She took her time, pressing her lips across the hairs leading down to my pants. I gulped as she unbuttoned them and instead of just pulling down my trousers, she tugged my underwear down too. My hardened cock was free and bare before her, standing upright. She didn't say anything, or even touch it, just stared as she sat in between my legs.

"You're making me nervous," I joked, trying to break the silence.

"Sorry," she blushed. "You're just … um … big."

Pride swelled up inside of me and I grinned.

"Stop smiling," she berated me.

"I can't help it," I said proudly. "You tell a fella a compliment like that and it'll go straight to his head. Literally."

My cock twitched in agreement and Scarlett rolled her eyes. I ached for her to touch me, but I didn't want to rush her. I let her take her time as she stroked my pubic hair, touching the small curls. Her small hand finally grasped me at the base and I nearly came on the spot.

"What do I do?" she asked shyly.

"Like this," I answered, wrapping my hand around hers. I moved our hands upward, sliding them up and down. Nothing would ever beat Scarlett touching me like this and I throbbed as she frowned in concentration, stroking me until I groaned loudly. I closed my eyes, relishing in the sensation, when I felt something hot and unbelievably wet cover me.

My eyes flew open and Scarlett's mouth was wrapped around the tip of my cock.

"Scarlett," I pleaded, but I wasn't sure if she heard me. She sucked gently on the head, making erotic sounds I would never be able to forget. Her lips curled and just the slightest bit of her teeth scraped against the skin, causing me to push my hips upward. She took me in deeper and I was a goner. My hands traveled to her hair, guiding her as I felt myself about to let go. It was embarrassing and I couldn't let myself do that twice in one day.

I repeated her name, louder this time until she finally released me and glanced up. "Am I doing it wrong?"

I swallowed, shaking my head. "No, but I'm not going to last if you keep that up."

"Oh."

I waited for her to move, but instead she did the last thing I ever expected her to: she put her warm mouth on me again, this time going at least half-way down. I cursed and she wrapped her hand around the base of my cock, moving unevenly as she sucked me at the same time.

I was so aroused and paralyzed and shocked all at once. Her muffled moans made me throw my head back and when she sped up, I knew I wouldn't make it another second. I fought the urge to grab her hair roughly and instead, twisted my fists into the blanket. My breaths accelerated and she massaged the swollen flesh firmly. Blood rushed like wildfire beneath my skin and I thrust myself faster between her sweet lips. I felt my muscles contract and the tension rise in my abdomen. She deliberately sucked me hard and I squeezed my eyes tighter as she pumped me relentlessly.

Gritting my teeth, my body tensed as the hot liquid spewed out of me. I grunted and my body quivered, releasing into Scarlett's mouth. She took it all, not moving until I finally stopped jerking. It was so intense, I felt like I would never move again. She finally scooted backward, leaning over the treehouse entrance and spitting down below. I was in such a state of euphoria that everything was a blur around me. She turned to face me, wiping her mouth and smiling.

With heavy eyelids, I blinked as she sat before me, propped up on her knees in only her underwear. "How did you—"

"Alice," she told me boastfully. "It pays to have an older, more experienced cousin."

I didn't even want to know what else Alice had told her. Instead, I reached my arms out, trying to catch my breath and hold her as well. She lay beside me, snuggling underneath my arm and placing her hand on my chest.

"Thank you," I said softly. "That was … better than anything I'd ever imagined."

Scarlett giggled. "So you admit you've been imagining it?"

"I've got a lot of time on my hands," I confessed. She laughed, strumming her fingers along my skin. I felt her breasts press against me and her feet rub up and down my legs. She kissed me softly and even though I'd come harder than I had ever before, I felt myself getting excited again.

"Lincoln?" Scarlett's voice came out in a whisper as I stared at the treehouse roof.

"Yeah?"

"You know how you were upset about your father?"

I groaned, not wanting to talk about my parents at a time like this. It was interrupting my state of blissfulness.

"Scarlett—"

"Just listen, okay?" she pleaded. I nodded and let her continue. "I just want you to know he loves you. And maybe he's a little harsh, but everything he did was to keep you safe. My father doesn't do that. He uses his power and authority to boss me around and his money to buy my love. I want you to know we don't all have a Carlisle. Be thankful for him."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was so angry at Pa I forgot all Scarlett had was Mr. Swan. Pa could be overprotective, but he would never hurt me or someone else. And after everything, he was still my pa.

"I don't hate him, Scarlett. I guess I just want a little more freedom."

"And that's what he's fighting for. Didn't you tell me he was going to that rally tomorrow? It's not for himself—it's for you. He wants you to be free _and_ safe. Your father is sacrificing himself amongst a bunch of angry protestors to make sure you can finally walk down the street and make it out alive. And I want that for you too. I want you to live, Lincoln. Not sneak around and duck behind buildings and wear hats, but to truly live. And your father wants that as well."

I sighed. I knew she was right, but Scarlett was a Swan. She was white and privileged and everything I would never be.

"What if nothing changes?" I asked. "What if after all of the fighting and protesting and sacrifices from Pa everything stays the same?"

Scarlett sat up, wrangling herself out of my hold. She hesitated, debating what to say. "A wise man once told me to look at colored people like they're real. So that's what I'm going to do. The world can't stay the same if someone's trying to change it. And for you, Lincoln, I will do anything, even if that means giving away all of my cookies."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

"It means I love you," she smiled. "And when your father's trying to fight for your freedom, I will be too."

"I'm not asking you to," I replied gently.

Scarlett climbed on top of me, placing her legs on both sides of my hips. "That's thing about love, Mister Masen. You don't get a choice. You're not the only one who can slay dragons, you know."

I laughed and pulled her to me, pressing my mouth against hers. She giggled against my lips, parting her mouth for me. I kissed her deeply, tasting her tongue with my own. Her breasts were pushed against my chest and she rocked her lower half against mine. The friction made shivers rip through my body and I groaned. She repeated her motions, rocking back and forth as my cock thrust against her sweet spot. My hands traveled up her thighs, lingering at the edge of thin, silk material.

Sitting up, Scarlett shifted and moved until she removed her underwear. She returned back to her position and this time she was bare, and her tiny curls were touching my own. My erection throbbed as I pressed against her. Placing her hands on my chest, she rubbed herself back and forth. I could feel her wetness soaking my cock and she was so damn beautiful.

I didn't know how much more I could take and I placed my arm around her back. I flipped us over and her headband began to slide out of her hair. Pulling it off completely, I tossed it to the side and her brunette curls fell around her angelic face.

I had never wanted anything more than I wanted her in that moment. Hitching her right leg higher, I wrapped her around my waist, gaining entry to the spot I needed so badly.

It seemed surreal, the two of us, after everything we had been through. I stared into her eyes, hoping she knew how special she was to me. Scarlett was no ordinary girl and I was honored just to have her love me back.

She looked at me with watery eyes and I felt like a bastard, hoping I hadn't pressured her to go too far.

"Hey," I said gently. "We can stop."

She shook her head. "I'm … no. I love you so much. I want to do this. Alice told me it will hurt, but I want you, Lincoln. I want you to be my first and last."

Her words made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. "I want that too."

She smiled, moving her hand between us. She positioned me so that all I had to do was push forward, but I couldn't, not yet.

"Scarlett, I love you. Maybe that's not enough, but I just wanted to tell you that."

"It's enough," she said quietly. "It'll always be enough."

I nodded, leaning forward to kiss her. Despite what Alice had told her, I didn't want to cause her pain. I slipped my hand between us, rubbing circles gently as she moaned. She was so stunning. Everything about her was flawless, even her imperfections. She finally relaxed and I glanced down at my glistening hand. She clutched tightly onto my shoulders, moaning and squirming beneath me.

She begged me with slurred words until I pressed my cock at her entrance. I hesitated, but she bit my bottom lip, pleading me to continue. Using my hand to guide me, I stroked myself up and down, lubricating my erection. It throbbed, waiting impatiently to be inside of her.

I was filled with emotions, knowing this moment would bind us together forever. I whispered that I loved her into her and mouth and pushed half an inch. Scarlett cried out and I froze.

"Scarlett—" My gritted voice was saturated with anguish at her pain.

"Love me, Lincoln," she ordered me boldly. "Please."

I nodded, trying to not succumb to pleasure. She was so tight and hot and I didn't know if I would even make it all the way inside her.

She squeezed her eyelids shut and I pushed the tip of my cock slowly past her barrier. Her thighs clenched around me and I kissed her, holding her tightly to me with my other hand. Scarlett whimpered and the sound vibrated into my ear. I pressed forward, agonizingly slow, until our centers pressed together.

Scarlett was no longer kissing me, or even breathing for that matter. I remained still, not believing that we had made it this far. My hand glided up her body, reaching her breast, and I massaged it gently.

"Scarlett, are you okay?"

She finally opened her eyes and smiled. "Yes. I'm perfect."

I grinned, gazing into her beautiful eyes. "That you are."

I waited for a few more seconds, trying to soak in the moment for all it was worth. No matter what anyone thought, this was beautiful. Finally uniting our bodies as one was indescribably wonderful. I could stay like this forever. It felt right, like we were meant to be.

"Are you going to move?" she asked softly.

"I was trying to relish the moment."

"Oh."

She finally cracked a smile and shifted, her walls contracting around me. I had the feeling she did it on purpose and when she dug her nails into my back, I knew I couldn't remain still for much longer. She pulled me closer and I pulled out slightly before pushing back in. Scarlett moaned, sending electric shocks through my body. It was so intense, making love for the first time without any doubts or regrets. We were making the decision to love without boundaries and it was a complete reflection of who we were.

"I love you, baby," I whispered, sliding outward again. I fought for control as I slid back and forth, in and out, filling her completely. She felt so, so good when I thrust slowly into her body. I don't think I would ever feel like this again and I hoped she felt the same.

Deliberately moving, she met my thrusts and when she finally sighed, I wondered if her pain had subsided. Her fingers roamed my bare skin and I kissed every sliver of skin was available to me. I wanted her to know how much she was loved and adored. I didn't take her gift for granted.

Her flesh was hot, scorching me from the inside out. We whispered each other's names, falling in sync as I hitched her leg higher. The new angle made her gasp and she clawed at my back. Her frantic motions made me thrust into her faster with sweat dripping down my brow.

"You're mine, sweet princess," I told her breathlessly. "Always mine."

She whimpered in response and our foreheads touched one another. I reached for one of her hands and she fumbled before twining our fingers together. A bubble of emotion caught in my throat and I gripped her hand tightly.

"Promise me forever," I grunted.

"I already did," Scarlett panted with quickened breaths.

"Again, baby. I need to hear it again."

She didn't answer and I reached between us, rubbing the hardened bud that made her cry out. I drove into her more firmly, waiting to hear those words. Her head fell to the side and her legs quivered around me. I felt as if we were falling, almost spiraling into a place filled with pleasure and love.

Scarlett was fighting the inevitable. I could tell by the way her eyes glassed over and how she struggled to clamp her teeth together. I licked her sweet flesh, tasting the salty sweat and hot skin just below her ear. My own orgasm was on the horizon and my stomach hurt as I tried to hold off a bit longer.

"Scarlett," I growled, pumping into her. "Promise me."

Scarlett shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. I missed those pretty browns, the ones that always held nothing but love for me. Gripping her hips tightly, I thrust erratically into her. Scarlett tensed and screamed, holding onto me so firmly it hurt. I continued slamming, her wetness coating me fully. The sounds of our bodies filled the small space, echoing out into the open air. Unable to stop myself, I snarled into her neck, biting down as I released. Pleasure surged through me and my heart pounded as I slowed down and stilled my movements. I became slack, falling onto Scarlett, unable to move for an immeasurable amount of time.

We both laid there, breathing heavily, until I realized Scarlett was probably hurting. I pulled out of her slowly and my eyes widened at the streaks of blood on my cock. Alarmed, I kissed her forehead and used my shirt to wipe her clean.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

Scarlett smiled. "I'm fine. It, uh, happens the first time."

"Oh." I tugged on the blanket sheepishly, covering us both. I was too tired to move or leave and I suspected she felt the same. "Scarlett, why did you not answer me?"

Sighing, she curled into me, running her hands up and down my body. "I told you, Lincoln, I already did."

Scarlett gestured to my hand. I glanced over and raised it into the air. In the midst of passion, she had slid the ring I'd given her onto my own finger.

"I once told Alice that I owned you," she admitted softly. When I frowned, a saddened expression covered her face. "It was wrong. I expected you to be my property, something I could do as I wish with. But after all this time, my wish is the same but my reason is different. I still want you, Lincoln. I want you to be mine forever."

Smiling, I slid the ring back onto her finger.

"Then we will be, Scarlett Swan. Forever and ever."

We started a new chapter of our own that night. In a treehouse in the middle of a forest in a faraway land, the princess helped the knight finally find himself.


	14. Protest

**Oh you guise are the sweetest! What would I do without you? Corner rocking? Check. Severe weeping? Check. Moan over cupcakes? Check and check.**

 **I made Cherry smile and I quote "so freaking hard". I hope this means rainbow porn.**

 **Cinny is trying to have my characters mugged in prison. NO! No soap dropping for you!**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Protest**

 _"Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman."_

 _~Marian Anderson_

 _(IPOV)_

I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to keep from smiling about the soreness between my legs. Making love to Lincoln wasn't anything like Alice had said it would be. Well, it hurt like hell— that part was true— but she didn't mention anything about my heart feeling like it was going to explode with pure happiness.

"You're in an awfully good mood this morning," Mother stated, grinning at me above her orange juice.

"Not because of you!" I scowled, turning away. Bitterness rose like bile in my throat and with her smug expression, I had little reason to swallow it. "I'm still not speaking to you, Mother."

"Now Scarlett, you can't ignore me forever."

"Watch me," I spit out resentfully. "You are a coward and I don't associate with cowards."

"Scarlett!" Father placed his newspaper on the table and reprimanded me for my lack of respect. "That is enough! You want to cry over a colored boy, that's your own sick business, but you will not talk to your mother in that manner. Now apologize!"

"No."

"Scarlett, I am warning you—"

"And I am warning _you_ ," I repeated firmly. "You can lock me in this God-forsaken house but you can't make me converse with either one of you."

Father glared and Mother sighed with pity. "Scarlett, you aren't grounded. Punishing you to your room will accomplish nothing. Besides, there's a mother-daughter brunch happening at the tea room today and I want you to accompany me."

"Fine," I sulked. "And what will you do today, Father? Hang a Negro by their neck? Perhaps one wasn't enough. Maybe you'll hang three."

Father ignored my insult and adjusted his tie. "For your information, I will be attending the rally. Someone's got to put an end to those ingrates."

"You're protesting against them?" I asked in astonishment.

"I provided the police department with more resources and paid for the signs," Father boasted proudly. "Of course I'm going."

"You racist, chauvinistic piece of sh—"

"Scarlett!" Mother shouted my name before I could spew any more hateful words. "You are excused from this table. Go get ready. We will be leaving promptly at 11."

"Hmph!" Scraping my chair loudly across the marble floor, I stood up and folded my arms. "Jenks, I need assistance with my clothing."

Jenks placed his silver platter down immediately. "Yes, Miss Scarlett."

With Jenks following behind me, I stormed towards my room. Jenks closed the door quietly behind us and I sat on my bed with a huff, the silk comforter billowing around me. "Jenks, what was Father talking about? What resources?"

"I ain't got all the facts, but I heard Mister Swan on the phone. Says he got those badges some batons, guard dogs, and paid for big guns. Seems like Blacks will do more runnin' than protesting today, Miss Scarlett."

I inhaled sharply at Jenks' news. Carlisle was going to be there! I didn't want him to get hurt at the hands of my father. The Masens had suffered enough.

"I'm worried for Carlisle," I told Jenks honestly. "He won't know what he's walking into."

Jenks laughed. "Seems like you and I don't know the same man. Mister Carlisle is a strong and mighty fella. I reckon he can take care of himself. And you, Miss Scarlett, need to get dressed."

"I will," I replied, nodding. "Will you attend the brunch with me?"

"Of course. Mrs. Swan already has me serving the meals."

"I bet she does," I muttered under my breath. Jenks smiled and left me to get dressed. I showered, taking my time under the hot, cascading water and thinking about last night. Lincoln had finally left in the wee hours of the morning and I hoped he and his family got a chance to smooth things over. Lincoln could be a bit stubborn and didn't seem to understand his father's intentions.

I fixed my hair in a beehive style, adorned with a simple blue ribbon. Figuring I hadn't drove Mother into an early grave just yet, I tried on a pair of blue and white gingham pedal pushers with a simple blouse.

By the time I glanced at my clock it was nearly 11. Mother called my name and I raced out of my room, running down the stairs.

"No! Absolutely not, Scarlett Swan!" Mother yelled at me in horror. "What has gotten into you? You are not wearing that to a formal tea room!"

"I think I look lovely," I said with a smirk. "Wouldn't you agree Jenks?"

Jenks attempted to hide his grin but failed. "Yes, Miss Scarlett."

"Scarlett!" Mother tapped her foot angrily and pointed to the steps.

"Fine, Mother, I will change into a stuffy flowered dress that I will choke in before the hors d'oeuvres are even served. But I saw on television that in Hollywood, boots as tall as my leg will be all the rage, just you wait and see."

"Not while I'm living," Mother retorted.

"White boots!" I taunted, retreating up the stairs. "Shiny, leather, sexy white boots!"

I laughed out loud, changing into a champagne colored dress and kitten heels. I switched my ribbon to compliment the atrocious, fluffy gown and stuck my tongue out at my reflection.

Mother may have won the battle, but she would not win the war.

Today, I was meeting Lincoln.

.

.

.

The Divine Tea Room was an exquisite manor in the center of the city that held gatherings for Birmingham's elite. As soon as we walked in, Jenks joined the other servers and I was introduced to Mrs. Mallory, the hostess of the brunch. In her white dress and wide brimmed hat, she kissed Mother on both cheeks.

"And is this the lovely Scarlett Isabella?" Mrs. Mallory asked, holding out her hand.

"Just Scarlett," I corrected her. Mother nudged me and I shook the woman's hand.

"You are more beautiful than your mother described," Mrs. Mallory gushed. "Come along now, the others are waiting."

We followed Mrs. Mallory up a small flight of stairs into a room filled with several white tables and expensive china. Women filled the seats, chatting quietly—gossiping, no doubt—and nodding graciously when Mother and I approached. Several servers were already passing out food, but I reached for the first glass of champagne.

I had taken a few sips when Mrs. Mallory began speaking to a lady named Ms. Emily Young.

"My, it is a mess out there," Mrs. Mallory exclaimed. "The streets are crowded and I barely arrived here on time! I wish they would make everyone go home. Wouldn't you agree, Emily?"

"I'll say," Emily responded, swinging her blonde hair behind her shoulders. "Absolute nonsense if you ask me. Those coloreds should just be happy they aren't slaves anymore. But protesting for rights? It will never happen."

Everyone paused as we listened to the ruckus outside. The chants were getting louder and we heard several bangs and the sound of breaking glass.

"Well Brady, my wonderful husband who is the police chief of course, told me several officers weren't attending the streets today," Mrs. Mallory said in a hushed voice.

"Oh?" Mother asked nosily.

"The word is—and you cannot tell anyone—is that they've gotten a tip on a biracial child living in town!"

I wasn't sure who choked first, Mother or myself, but Mother shook her head. "Are you sure it wasn't a rumor?"

"Are you calling my Brady a liar?" Mrs. Mallory asked in astonishment. "Of course it's true. And when they find that … that _thing …_ they will burn it alive!"

"Murdering a child?" Even Emily appeared shocked.

"Serves those coloreds right! And what kind of Caucasian sleeps with a Negro? It's filthy and against the Lord's will. I hope they burn the parents as well. Birmingham has enough going on without adding mutts to the mix."

The other ladies murmured and nodded their heads in agreement. The entire conversation was making me sick.

"Mother, I'm not feeling well. I think I need some fresh air."

"Outside, darling?" Mother shook her head. "It's too dangerous. There's a sitting room downstairs. Go lie down. I'll send Jenks to check on you in a few minutes."

Of course she would; God forbid she have to leave her precious friends to care about her own ailing daughter.

I excused myself and walked slowly out of the room. As soon as I turned the corner I searched for Jenks, who was in the kitchen with the other help. I motioned towards him and he rushed towards me.

"You alright, Miss Scarlett?"

"I'm fine, Jenks. I told Mother I was sick," I whispered. "I'm going to go meet Lincoln. I need to make sure he's okay. Can you cover for me?"

"But Mrs. Swan—"

"Is too busy gossiping about how to burn biracial babies alive," I finished for him. "Please, Jenks. I need your help."

Jenks nodded. "You be careful out there, Miss Scarlett."

"I will," I promised. I kissed his cheek, thanking him for his loyalty, and snuck down the stairs. I found a back entrance and left out the door, waiting for a minute to make sure no one was behind me. When I thought it was clear, I navigated my way around several buildings, avoiding the main street. The crowds were loud and boisterous, with coloreds chanting, "Blacks fight for White rights!" over and over again.

The uneven pavement seemed to melt beneath my feet and each stride felt heavier than the last. I quickened my pace, swallowing from the alcohol that had made my throat feel dry. I was parched from the sweltering heat and knew that I may not reach Lincoln in time. I swatted at my hair and perspiration clung to my skin, rolling down in salty, thick beads. I was vaguely aware of the stinging in my legs as I panted and finally reached our castle. Police dogs were barking and growling at a crowd of young black men as I reached for the door handle. I ran inside before anyone noticed.

.

.

.

"Lincoln! Lincoln, are you here?" I called out my love's name in the darkness and a rough hand covered my mouth to silence me.

"Shh, it's me."

I turned around in a whirl and Lincoln and I were face-to-face. I grabbed him in an embrace, never wanting to let him go.

"You're safe," I cried, overcome with tears. "I thought they'd found you. I thought …"

I trailed off and Lincoln wiped my face with the pads of his thumb. "What's wrong, Princess? Who's they?"

"The police," I managed to strangle out. "They know of a biracial child in town! They're going to find him and burn him!"

Lincoln hugged me tightly, rocking me side to side. "It's not me, Scarlett. No one knows about me, okay? I'm fine."

His news should have made me feel better, but it didn't. If it wasn't Lincoln, then it was someone else. Some innocent, poor human who was going to die and with the tension in Birmingham high, I wondered who else was going to be sacrificed. They were like starved animals, begging for the darkest meat, ready to ravish Negros in packs.

Exhausted, I sat down on the hard cement floor with Lincoln following and sitting behind me. He leaned against the wall and I cradled myself between his legs. He gripped me tightly, kissing along my neck.

"Did you and your father make up this morning?" I asked quietly.

"If by make up you mean he didn't kill me, then yes, I suppose. Pa told me he loved me when he left with Embry. I said it back but I don't even know if he heard me."

"He heard you Lincoln," I assured him. "Your father loves you more than anything."

"I know," he replied. "Ma didn't even stop me when I left this morning. I think they're both tired of fighting. I don't know which is worse, keeping me locked up or getting to the point of not caring."

We sighed together, each of us trying not to weigh the other down with our own problems. The crowds outside were getting louder and every crash made me tremble. All I could think of was Carlisle and I knew Lincoln was worried about him too.

"I can't stay long," I admitted in a soft voice. "I'm supposed to be at a brunch with Mother."

"Then we better make every second count," Lincoln whispered in my ear.

I moaned, reaching around for Lincoln as he leaned forward and kissed me on my lips. I melted into him, trying to forget the outside world and the evidence that we would never be together in daylight. The thought made my hormones reach their peak, and I turned the gentle kiss into one of need. I pulled at the collar of his shirt as I leaned backward until he hovered over me.

Yesterday was absolutely beautiful, but we didn't have time for a repeat. I clawed at his trousers, unbuttoning them as he pulled my panties down my legs. I was still quite sore from our love-making the day before, but it didn't stop me from allowing him to rub small circles where I needed him most.

I whimpered as he kissed me and he lined himself up and pushed slightly against my opening. The burn started all over again, a reminder that I had given myself to the boy who had my heart. I winced as he cradled my head, filling my ears with murmurs of love and forever.

I concentrated on his eyes instead, watching him with fascination as he scrunched his face, slowly pushing inside of me. When I clenched my thighs, it only made the tightness worse. He groaned in the darkness, pulling my knees upward on either side of him.

"Relax, baby," he murmured. "It's just me."

I tried to heed his words and loosened the muscles in my body. He slid out deliberately slow, and then pressed himself in again. Every movement felt like heaven and with heavy breaths I kissed my angel.

"Do you hear that Princess?" Lincoln moved his hips, thrusting me against the dirty floor. "You hear them fighting over color?"

I made inaudible noises as our bodies melted together, our heat making breathing air almost unbearable.

"And here we are, baby, making love while they're fighting," Lincoln cooed. "See, they think I don't have the right to be with you. They think I'm not the same." Lincoln's necklace dangled over my throat, hitting the bottom of my chin repeatedly. He curled his tongue, licking the sheen of sweat across the top of my lip.

"They think I don't deserve you." Lincoln thrusted harder and faster and our skin slapped together in the dim room. My back arched and he embraced me tighter, plunging into me recklessly. I cried out, digging my heels into the backs of his thighs.

"But they don't know us, baby," he groaned, pressing his forehead against mine. "They don't know how beautiful this is." I scratched at Lincoln's back, the bundle of nerves in my stomach tightening. I blocked out the noises of the city, focusing on his lips as he nipped my mouth. An intense sensation coursed through my veins and I felt the pressure build up in my lower half. My legs trembled and I gasped, feeling the goosebumps dance across my flesh.

"They don't know, Princess, that I love you."

Unable to hold on any longer I screamed out, and Lincoln kissed me roughly to muffle my cries. Pleasure surged through me and I exploded around him. I convulsed and shook, biting his lips until my muscles went rigid. Lincoln grunted, plunging into me rapidly until he reached his own orgasm. He bucked several times, quivering as he finally let go.

I clung to him, panting and allowing him a moment of reprieve as his body went slack. I felt sticky between my legs and with a kiss, he slowly pulled out of me. The white substance ran down my legs and Lincoln cleaned me, using my abandoned panties and stuffing them in his pocket.

"Taking a parting gift?" I mumbled.

Lincoln grinned, zipping up his pants. "Something to remember you by until next time."

I giggled then remembered where I was supposed to be. If Mother discovered I was gone, Jenks and I both would be in trouble. I stood up, adjusting my dress and dusting myself off. "I have to go."

"Already?" Lincoln appeared disappointed and I hated to be the one to wipe the smile off of his face.

"Jenks is covering for me," I explained and Lincoln nodded knowingly.

"I feel a bit used," he joked, standing beside me.

"We'll meet again on Monday," I promised.

"Well at least let me walk you back," Lincoln offered. When I tried to protest, he picked his hat up off the floor and placed it on his head. "See? I've got this covered."

"That hat is disgusting," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"You mean debonair?" he boasted. "I know, sweet girl. Now come on."

Lincoln grabbed my hand and we walked to the door, kissing one last time. He opened it and the bright sun illuminated the room. The protestors' voices boomed in our ears and Lincoln glanced both ways before leading us out down the alley.

We half-jogged, darting between buildings and away from the main street, when we heard loud screams. Dogs barked, sirens blared, and hoses were blasted at a group of coloreds. The crowd marched in synch, flooding the streets with demands of a better life. They protested by the thousands and I wondered if they knew the costs of their actions. They lined the pockets of the local government to dispute the same ones who banned them the rights they so desperately wanted. Each activist made people like my Father a richer man.

"Burn it! Burn it!"

Lincoln tried to tug me along but my feet were moving on their own accord. Every step pushed me closer to the street, as if the crowd were calling my name.

"Scarlett! Come on! You've got to get back!" Lincoln's pleas drowned in my ears and I pushed my way through the center of the crowd. My vision was pixelated, blurred by the mass of humanity jostling to be heard. I saw Carlisle first, his large frame hovering near the center of the commotion. He was yelling at a man in a business suit, his fists raised in the air defiantly.

 _Father._

The man whose DNA was in my body was holding a baby. The policeman beside him held a red container and doused the crying baby in liquid. Citizens, both black and white, screamed loudly, fearful of the barbaric act of cruelty that was about to take place.

Carlisle attempted to step forward and was beaten with several batons. They thumped against him and I heard the blows echo in my ears. He was pushed backwards, stumbling into the horde of people. Other coloreds held him back, but he struggled, trying to reach for the infant.

A biracial infant.

"You Negros want rights?" Father's voice boomed with a fire of fury and hatred. His eyes narrowed, his face as dark and angry as a storm gathering clouds. He punctuated each venomous word, spitting with a torrent of rage he reserved for those who differed from him. "I'm giving you the right to go to hell! This monster is an abomination, and you coloreds are going to learn what happens when you ravage our women!"

The protestors cried and screamed but I heard nothing. I watched in horror as Father placed the baby on the ground, accepting a pack of matches from another police officer. He struck the match, prepared to drop the lit flame below.

"Scarlett!"

"Scarlett!"

Shots rang out amongst the crowd and I was shoved to the side. My vision blurred as fire spread a dark smoke into the air. As my world went dark, my knees buckled beneath me and all I could hear was a crying angel before I hit the ground.

.

.

.

 _(EPOV)_

I yelled Scarlett's name, shoving people to the side as absolute chaos broke out. I reached for her, several feet away, watching as she swayed side to side, prepared to collapse to the dark pavement.

"I've got her!" Pale arms caught Scarlett just in time and when I glanced over, it was Alice, her cousin. I nodded once, surprised by her appearance, but thankful she was there to watch over my girl. I was too busy trying to reach Pa, who I noticed was in the midst of the circle.

He turned around, trying to break free with a drenched infant in his arms. He ducked his head and ran, a white man hovering behind him with a protective arm. Pa glanced up, noticing me first.

"Lincoln, get out of here! It's too dangerous!" The wailing baby and boisterous crowd made his words almost inaudible and another gunshot rang out. I reached Alice, who was struggling to hold up Scarlett. I lifted up one side of her, with Alice helping to balance her weight. We did our best to drag her to the sidewalk.

"This way!" A black woman gestured to us and we followed, stooping and bobbing to elude the police. I glanced behind me, but Pa was too busy trying to cradle the infant closely to his chest. We finally reached a small store and I read the faded sign: The Olden Golden Thrift Shop.

The woman fumbled with her keys, unlocked the door and rushed us inside. She closed it and bolted it back, breathing a sigh of relief. Alice and I looked around for a space to place Scarlett, but the white man removed clothing from a brown, worn loveseat. Carefully, we laid her down and Pa scanned the store, desperately searching for something.

"Water!" he exclaimed frantically. "I need water!"

The woman led him to a back area labeled as the bathroom to wash the gasoline off the baby. I huffed, leaning over and holding my hands to my knees.

"Alice," I panted. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm with my father. Father, this is Edward Lincoln Masen. Edward Lincoln, this is my father, James."

"Scarlett's uncle?" I asked, trying to put the pieces together.

"That's me," he smiled, reaching out to shake my hand. I shook it firmly, finally realizing the family resemblance. "Pleasure to meet you, although not under these circumstances."

"Ain't that the truth," I muttered. Kneeling before Scarlett, I brushed the wisps of hair away from her forehead. "I need a cool washcloth. She's out cold."

"I'll get it," Alice offered, heading in the same direction as Pa.

James reminded me of Mr. Swan, only he had kinder eyes and was slightly taller than his brother. He patted me on the shoulder, noticing my worried expression. "She'll be fine. That niece of mine is a fighter."

"It's my fault," I admitted sadly. "I told her to meet me in town and I shouldn't have. My Pa was right. It's complete chaos out there. But I had to see her."

"Young love makes you do crazy things." James winked at me just as Alice arrived back with the washcloth. I placed it on Scarlett's forehead, waiting for her to come to.

"How's the baby?" I asked.

"Almost clean," Alice replied, sitting on the arm of the loveseat. "I can't believe Uncle Charles would do such a thing!"

"I believe it," James said coldly. "That brother of mine is callous and evil."

I was stunned by the description he gave his own flesh and blood, but even more so how they could be polar opposites. I wondered why they were so different, but I didn't get a chance to ask. Pa and the woman returned, this time with her cradling the baby in fresh clothes and a blanket. He had finally stopped crying and was tucked in, sleeping soundly. She laid the infant in a used crib, marked for half off. Sighing, she wiped her brow.

"Sorry, I didn't get a chance to introduce myself. I'm Nessie, manager of this fine shop and a friend of Scarlett."

We took turns introducing ourselves, but Nessie stared at me the longest. Or more specifically, my neck.

"Something the matter?" I questioned, looking at my clothes. I was sweaty, sure, but I was dressed decently.

"No," Nessie smiled. "Nothing at all."

Scarlett moaned and every set of eyes turned towards her. I clutched her hand tightly. "Scarlett, it's me. You're fine, Princess. You're all right."

"Lincoln?" She gasped softly, her eyes fluttering open. As if she had remembered something, she sat up rapidly, looking around wildly. "The baby! The baby's on fire!"

I tucked a strand behind her ear and caught the washcloth as it fell. "The baby's fine. Pa got him before anything happened."

"Oh, Carlisle! Thank you!" Scarlett wept and lunged for Pa, wrapping her arms around him. His eyes widened, like he was surprised by her affection.

"You're … uh … welcome," Pa coughed out, patting her back awkwardly. "But would you two mind telling me what you're doing out in the mess? You could have gotten yourselves killed!"

Scarlett froze, unable to think of something on the spot, but I came up with the first lie I could. "We were looking for you. We didn't want you to get hurt."

"I'm fine, Lincoln, but I don't want you out here. Matter of fact, none of you should be. If Mr. Swan discovers I'm your Pa—"

"Then he'll have to get through me first!" James said boldly. "Although I have to ask, why is he after you?"

Scarlett rehashed the entire story of the hanging, with gasps coming from Nessie every now and then. Alice smiled at the parts about how we began courting but oddly, Pa didn't look as angry as I thought he would.

"He's got to be stopped," James proclaimed when Scarlett was finished. "This has gone on long enough. He was roughed up by someone when we were children and he can't let it go."

"Roughed up?" Scarlett asked softly.

James sighed, explaining the details. "Charles was just seven years old when he and I were playing out in the street. Our family was well off, even back then, and Mother called out for me through the window. I had broken one of her glass vases and she discovered it. So I ran inside to blame my brother of course, and left him alone. By the time I had made it back out, he was on the sidewalk, bleeding and naked. A black boy was hovering over him and when Charles opened his eyes, that boy was the first thing Charles saw. The boy said he didn't do it, that he was trying to help, but before I could ask any questions he ran off. Charles admitted he was attacked from behind, but in his mind he put two and two together. He's hated coloreds ever since. The police even found his belongings down the street, in our white neighborhood, but to Charles it didn't matter. My brother's been on a warpath for blacks, deeming them all thieves and criminals without taking the chance to know the individual. But it's gotten worse. He's not seven years old anymore and today he tried to murder a baby in the middle of the street. He's a monster."

"And Mother doesn't care," Scarlett replied bitterly. "I'm not going home, Uncle James. I can't look him in the eye, especially after this."

"You can come stay with us," Alice offered cheerfully. "If that's okay, I mean."

"It sure is," James smiled brightly. "In fact, you all can. It may be a while before things calm down around here. Businesses will be closed until everything's cleaned up."

"But my wife—" Pa interrupted.

"Is more than welcome to join us. Besides, we have plenty of space and I would love to introduce the man who saved an infant to my Victoria."

Pa looked hesitant, but I begged him relentlessly. "Pa, please? Like you said, it's not safe anyways. And you wouldn't want us to be in danger would you?"

Pa glanced at the crib. "But that baby … I don't even know who he belongs to."

"I'll find out," Nessie spoke up. "He can stay with me until I find the parents. Getting out of town would be best for all of you."

"I suppose," Pa relented and I jumped up, hugging him tightly.

"That's the spirit!" James grinned and helped Scarlett up. "Alice, Scarlett, and I will go get Renee, while you go home and get packed. We'll meet at the train station on Route 49 in one hour."

"Thank you," Pa said humbly. "It's not often I meet folks who will associate with my kind."

"Your kind?" James repeated. "You mean heroes?" Pa chuckled and James patted him on the back. "You all hurry. And be safe."

Pa nodded and asked to use the store phone to call Ma. With Pa's friend Embry lost in the shuffle, we needed a ride home. Pa said we'd meet her near the edge of town and Nessie led us out the rear entrance. The outside chaos wasn't as loud, but we could hear fighting on the main street.

"Pa?" I paused momentarily before we crossed behind a jewelry store. "What made you save that baby? I saw Mr. Swan and those policeman. You almost got shot."

Pa looked at me and lifted my chin with his strong hand. "I had to, Son. He reminded me too much of you."

"Because he's yellow?" I asked.

"Because he's human," Pa responded with a grin, patting my hat. "'Sides, did you see those cheeks? He's a handsome boy."

I laughed. "More handsome than me?"

"With that raggedy hat on, yes indeed."

Pa and I chuckled and we continued running.

For once, we weren't running away, but towards something instead.

Something great, like people that were compassionate and kind-hearted and considerate.

We needed more people in the world like James, but when I looked at my Pa, I realized we were well on our way.

.

.

.

Ma took a bit of convincing on the ride home. Pa explained everything, with the riots and the baby and James intervening. She appeared shocked by the events that had occurred and even more so that we made it out alive. By the time we parked in the driveway, she was hesitant to leave town, but realized the severity of the situation. We packed quickly, taking only necessary items before loading them into the truck. Pa drove this time and we met James at the train tracks just in the nick of time.

James and Pa rolled down their windows, parked so that the vehicles were parallel to each other.

"We're headed to Meadow Hills," James yelled out. "I'm taking the back roads, just in case. We should be there in an hour or so."

"I'm right behind ya!" Pa shouted back.

I glanced past Pa to see Scarlett and gave her a timid wave. Jenks was in their vehicle too, but I saw no sign of Scarlett's mother. I wondered if she would be driving on her own.

Pa's truck rumbled after James' sleek black car and we settled in for the long drive. Ma patted her knee nervously, which just made me anxious in return.

"Ma, cut it out," I told her. "I can't think straight with all that tapping."

The truck lurched forward and bounced along, with me in the middle getting jarred side to side.

"I'm sorry, honey," Ma apologized. "I know they're nice people, but what if Charles shows up out of nowhere? It won't matter how far away we are, Swans are Swans."

"We'll be fine, Esme," Pa assured her. "How about you dig out one of those chicken wings you packed? I'm starving."

"Yeah, me too," I added, licking my lips.

"You know, I'm beginning to feel used," Ma replied jokingly.

I laughed out loud. "That's what I said to Scarlett earlier!"

Ma and Pa both turned to look at me and I glanced down at my hands. "I meant, how about that chicken? I sure am hungry."

"You'll get some bird all right," Pa scowled. "The birds and bees talk. Esme, you want this one or should I?"

"Be my guest," Ma said firmly, passing Pa a piece of fried chicken.

"Son, when a man and woman love each other …"

I groaned, folded my arms, and tried not to vomit at the conversation that ensued for the next hour. By the time we arrived at the sign labeled Meadow Hills, I figured there was nothing else to lose. I pulled out a cigarette, lit it right there in the truck, and watched Ma blow a gasket.

She waved at the smoke, coughed, and yelled all over again when Pa asked me if I had another.

Ma told me I was a heathen, full of sex and cigarettes and sin.

Pa didn't say anything, but he and I both knew he was laughing on the inside.


	15. Home

**Cherry and Cinny, you are my world, as always.**

 **Readers, thanks for reading and have a wondeful weekend!**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Home**

" _Some say we are responsible for those we love. Others know we are responsible for those who love us."_

 _~Nikki Giovanni_

 _(EPOV)_

James wasn't as rich as his brother Charles, but he still had more money than my kin ever would. I greeted the rest of Alice's family —Victoria, Jasper, and Jessica —before Alice dragged Scarlett and me away. Pa waved us on as he held our luggage and Victoria offered my parents and Jenks fresh drinks. As we climbed up the stairs, I leaned over and whispered to Scarlett.

"Where's your mother?"

Scarlett just rolled her eyes and followed behind me until we reached Alice's bedroom. "She didn't come, of course. Even after Uncle James explained what Father did, she said her place was to remain by her husband! Can you believe her? She chose Father over me, yet again!"

 _I don't think it's your father she chose,_ I wanted to say. _I think it's her lifestyle._

I kept my mouth shut, however. I felt awful for Scarlett. Our family had its own problems, but we were flesh and blood and we didn't treat kin like Mr. Swan treated Mrs. Swan. I saw it with my own two eyes that day I was caught in Scarlett's room. Scarlett's eyes flickered downward and I didn't mention anything else about it. No need to make her feel worse or to go poking and prying. Pa always said it was best to mind our own business, and the only time we discussed other folks' problems was when we were praying to God.

Although after today I wasn't sure if God wanted to hear Charles Swans' name, or if He was as mad at him as I was.

Alice's room was a bit smaller than Scarlett's and decorated more in cool blues than fancy golds. Her room was connected to her little sister Jessica's, who she said like to spy on her often. I couldn't blame the poor child; she didn't have much going on besides stuffing her face with sweets. Jasper was nice, I reckoned, but Victoria gave him a stern lecture and told him to leave me alone. He wasn't bothering me but he had this sly grin on his face, and I had a feeling he was a troublemaker.

"So," Alice began, plopping onto her bed, "you two look awfully cute together!"

Scarlett and I sat beside each other on the carpet floor, leaning comfortably a few inches apart. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks but Scarlett just crossed her arms and turned away. "And you are being awfully nosy, Alice!"

Alice laughed, slipping off her shoes, and they fell to the floor with a loud thud. "Not nosy, but inquisitive, dear cousin. And speaking of which, have you two … you know?"

This time we both blushed and Alice squealed in laughter. "I _knew_ it! Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, especially not Aunt Ren —"

Alice never finished her sentence because Jasper and Jessica walked in through the adjoining door. Jasper sat beside Scarlett and believe it or not, Jessica plopped herself right in my lap.

I coughed, trying to catch my breath and protect my privates by adjusting her position. Licking a lollipop, Jessica poked me in my cheek and then touched my eyelid.

"Jess, what are you doing?" Alice reprimanded her. "Cut that out!"

"I'm just looking," Jessica said in awe, stroking my cheek. "You sure are pretty."

I didn't know how to respond, so I sat there awkwardly as she touched my face with her sticky fingers.

"Um, thank you?" I replied hesitantly.

Jessica licked the red lollipop again. "Are you Scarlett's boyfriend? 'Cause I have a boyfriend and his name is Emmett and he tried to kiss me once but I told him no 'cause his breath smelled like broccoli. I don't like broccoli. I like candy and chocolate and sometimes those mint things Miss Fuller always has in her purse and —"

"You're such a fat ass!" Jasper snickered and Jessica kicked him with her wide bare foot.

"Shut up!" she told her brother. "I'm not fat, I'm filled with love, just like Mom said!"

"And lard," Jasper retorted again.

Jessica's bottom lip quivered and I tried to think of something to distract her with before she cried. "Do you guys want to play hide-and-seek?"

"Aren't you a little old for that game?" Jasper asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Why? Are you scared you'll lose?" I taunted him.

"Never!" he said, puffing out his chest.

"Good. Then Jessica and I will hide. You have to wait at least one full minute before looking for us."

Jessica rolled off of me and then I stood up, helping her rise to her feet. "I'm really good at this. They'll never find us!"

Jessica grinned widely and I held her hand. "Start counting …"

Alice laughed and counted down from one hundred as Jessica and I ran from the room. Since I didn't know where to go, I jetted down the stairs, pausing momentarily and to scan the area. All of the adults were talking and stopped when we reached the bottom of the stairs.

James looked at our entwined hands and glanced up from his cup of afternoon coffee. "What's going on?"

"We're playing hide-and-seek, Daddy," Jessica answered, huffing and out of breath. "We're it!"

James nodded knowingly and grinned at Pa.

"Kitchen cabinets," they said at the same time and laughed.

Jessica squeezed my hand tighter and led the way.

When the others came by, I heard Victoria lie and tell them we were outside. Several minutes went by and it wasn't long until we heard them passing through again.

We were safe until Jessica bit on her lollipop, crunching loudly.

It was Jasper who found us and when he did, we were greeted with a pound of flour over our heads.

Alice and Scarlett joined in soon after and the next thing I knew, there was an all-out flour war. Scarlett grabbed handfuls the white ingredient, tossing it into my hair. Alice tickled her brother and Jessica complained her candy was ruined. We laughed and carried on and I heard James yell at Jenks that he was not going to clean a single thing.

Due to Jessica's sweet tooth we were busted, but I felt so much joy in my heart from having friends, I didn't mind losing one bit.

.

.

.

"… And you just stayed hidden this entire time?" Victoria looked at me in shock, lowering her spoon of pea soup. I nodded and James glanced at me with pity, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Ma had just finished telling everyone our entire life story. First about her marriage to Pa, then about her pregnancy, hiding me in the cellar when I cried as an infant … everything. They couldn't believe all that we had sacrificed, and even more so, how we hadn't been caught.

Scarlett held my hand underneath the table and for once, Pa didn't object. I was beginning to think he had accepted our relationship, or at least while we were here where it was safe. Ma glanced at me and winked, nodding her approval.

"It wasn't so bad," I said. "You get used to being by yourself. Sure, it was lonely, but you can't even imagine how many card tricks I've learned over the years."

I chuckled quietly to myself, trying to add a hint of humor to the conversation, but not even Jasper laughed. They all stared, switching from me to Pa to Ma and then back to me all over again. I was starting to feel uncomfortable and bit into my pork chop, chewing slowly.

"Carlisle, you have to come with me to Washington in August." James put down his silverware and wiped his mouth, propping his elbows on the table.

"Washington?" Pa frowned and took a sip of tea. "For what?"

" _The_ march," James said, emphasizing its importance. "It won't be like some rally around here, with people losing their damn minds. It'll be organized, with hundreds of thousands of citizens and activists and labor organizations. They even said there will be a speaker, Mart —"

Pa shook his head defiantly. "I don't care who's speaking. I want rights for my boy, Lord knows I do, but I can't handle anymore near death experiences. Me, babies, Lincoln, no one. It won't invite anything but violence."

James stared, shocked that Pa was refusing him. "Carlisle, it will be conducted with civil obedience. Blacks, whites, everyone will be walking in peace. No one's going to be burning anything. _This_ is what's going to change the laws. Sure, Virginia's fine, but what about Alabama? What about Georgia and Mississippi? You and your family aren't the only ones suffering, but if you want change to happen, you've got to attend. And I'll be right there, at your side."

"I don't know," Pa answered slowly.

"Look at them." James gestured to Scarlett and I, still holding hands under the table. "Your son and my niece are safe to show affection in my home and yet there they are, still hiding when they think no one's noticing. And you said you and Esme are only married because her father held a ceremony for you. It's not legal, Carlisle. Imagine what it would be like to have a sheet of paper in your hand proving your marriage. Imagine a birth certificate for your son. We will be marching to change every law and article and act the White House can put their pen on. Now's the time. Not next year, not after my brother finds another baby to burn, and not after some clan throws another brick through your window. _Now_."

Pa swallowed, soaking in James' words. I knew deep down he understood what James was saying, but I think he feared the unknown. He didn't know any different, just like I didn't know what it was like to have friends. But it turned out all right for me and maybe, just maybe, other biracials and blacks could experience what I did today: complete and utter happiness.

"You said August, right?" Pa questioned.

"I'm showing up August 28th. It's on a Wednesday. We'll travel there in a day's drive and join our fellow men in freedom for your boy and for you and your wife. We'll make it a family trip. Everyone's invited and I'll even drive. What do you say?"

Ma squeezed Pa's hand while Scarlett squeezed mine. Even Jessica stopped chewing and Jenks stared with anticipation.

"Can we all fit?" Pa asked and James gave a loud, enthusiastic shout. Victoria and Ma giggled while James shook Pa's free hand.

"We will make a way, Carlisle!" James held his glass in the air. "A toast to change!"

"And lollipops," Jessica added.

"And cigarettes," I said, joining in.

"And flour," Jasper laughed.

We all went around the table, toasting for various reasons, but it all meant the same thing. I finally felt at peace and even though the Swans weren't my family, they sure felt like it.

.

.

.

Ma assigned me to sleep in her and Pa's guest room, but I went to say goodnight to Scarlett before we went our separate ways for the evening. Scarlett was dressed in a silk nightgown that fell below her knees. She was brushing her long brunette locks in front of the bathroom mirror when I walked in behind her. She smiled and I nuzzled the soft skin just below her ear.

"You look happy," she commented, staring at me in the mirror.

I grinned, wrapping my arms around her slender waist. "I am. I like being here. I feel … I don't know. Accepted, I think. Like I finally have friends and family and I get to have them all at once. It's odd. I've never experienced that before."

"Well, I'm glad. You deserve it, Lincoln. And according to Uncle James, you may just be accepted by everyone else as well. I think he's right. That march is going to change everything."

"You think so?" I asked, murmuring against her collarbone.

"I _know_ so. And as soon as I knock some common sense into my parents, then we'll all be happy." Scarlett sighed and placed her hairbrush on the sink.

"I'm sorry about that," I said apologetically. "About your parents, I mean. I feel like it's my fault you all are divided."

"It's not. Mother and Father are the kind that pretends to have a happy marriage, but I think they've been on the rocks for a while now. You know I've never seen them kiss?"

"Really?" I couldn't remember a time when my parents _weren't_ making me vomit from their kissing sessions.

"Yep. I just accepted it, you know, thinking that's how everyone was supposed to be. But then I met you and —"

"You fell in love," I laughed, finishing her sentence. "I don't blame you. I mean, my green eyes, my broad chest ... and your cousin did call me pretty. It was bound to happen."

Scarlett giggled and I swung her around, kissing her sweetly. Her bottom lip seemed to melt into mine and I treasured every moment we had together. In a full house, it was few and far between, so for a few minutes I just enjoyed holding her in my arms.

I told her I loved her when the phone rang loudly from downstairs. We kissed again as Alice came bursting through the open bathroom door.

"It's Aunt Renee," Alice coughed out, clearly winded. "She wants to talk to you."

Scarlett sighed and hugged me tighter. "It's late. Tell her I'll call her tomorrow."

Alice shook her head. "It's about Uncle Charles."

Scarlett laughed dryly. "I don't care. Unless he's beside her with an apology, I don't care to speak to him."

Alice swallowed and hesitated, shifting her feet side to side, unsure if she wanted to say her next words.

"Well, spit it out already," Scarlett said bitterly, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Scarlett … your father is—"

Before Alice could say another word, a large crash thundered outside, and I got the sinking feeling the news was something neither Scarlett nor I was prepared for.


	16. NIC

**Chapter Sixteen: NIC**

 _"The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose."_

 _~James Baldwin_

 _(IPOV)_

" _Scarlett … your father is_ _—"_

My heart hammered in my chest and the deafening sound of glass shattering resounded throughout Uncle James' house.

Alice froze mid-sentence, her eyes wide and paralyzed by fear that instinctively caused goosebumps to rise along my arms.

"He's here," she whispered and I blinked once, as if I were unable to understand the meaning of her words. They sounded like a foreign language and I grasped Lincoln's hand, traumatized by the chill that ran down my spine. Alice ran out of the bathroom and to her window, glancing down below. "It's the police! Lincoln, you've got to hide!"

Lincoln swallowed, fully aware of the situation and the repercussions it would bring to him and his family. "I —"

"There's no time!" Alice exclaimed, grabbing him the arm. My hand slipped from his as she dragged him away, his feet stumbling over the carpet. I ran behind them and Carlisle was already half-way up the stairs to get his son.

The adults were downstairs, dressed in their nighttime clothing, except for Jenks, who still wore his butler attire. They all panicked at the broken glass that lay beneath one of the windowpanes.

"In the cabinet," James ordered them. "I'll take care of this."

Aunt Victoria noticed Jasper and Jessica at the top of the staircase. "Stay upstairs and do not come down!"

Jasper nodded, taking his little sister's hand and dashing back to their rooms. Jenks leaned against the sofa for support, like his ailing heart was unable to handle all of the commotion.

The sirens wailed and a second window was destroyed by another brick. Esme ducked, the block barely missing her shoulder. Loud bangs sounded at the front door and its hinges threatened to break loose from the panel.

James rushed to the door, unlocking it and turning the knob so it would open. Father stood amongst five police officers, each with either a baton or gun in their hands.

"Charles." Uncle James spit the word out like it was poison on his tongue. Father brushed by him, marching into the house with the officers filing in behind him.

"Where is he?" Father yelled, his eyes surveying the living room. "I know he's here."

"I have no idea who you're talking about," Uncle James replied calmly. "My family and I are trying to sleep. And you've broken my windows. There's no need for it."

"Don't play stupid with me, James. Besides, I've always had a flare for the dramatics." Father scowled at everyone in the room and his eyes finally settled on mine. His expression softened slightly and he spoke to me as if I was a child. "Scarlett, listen to me darling. I know you're trying to help these people, but what they have is against the law. Hand over the boy and I promise you, I won't be mad. I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" I repeated. "The only thing I need protecting from is you, Father! I saw what you tried to do to that baby! I was there and I saw the whole thing. You're a monster!"

Father inhaled sharply, like he didn't have time to deal with a tantrum, and then ignored me completely. "Officers, search the premises."

The policemen nodded, breaking off in several directions. I glanced at Alice, who stood between the living room and kitchen area. She nodded slightly once, her way of telling me Lincoln was safe.

"We're going to find that Negro boy and I'm not leaving this house until we do!" Father walked slowly to the bar stand near the staircase, opening a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a glass, taking a sip and acting like he had all the time in the world.

"Charles, this has gone on long enough," Uncle James told him. "Go home, brother. You're not going to find anything or anyone here. It's over."

Father swallowed the last of his amber liquid, slamming the crystal glass back onto the stand. "It's over when I say it's over! You fucking disgust me! You're defending these … these coloreds? What are they to you? No one! I'm your family, James, and you're trying to turn everyone against me. My own daughter has fed into your lies and I'm sick of this bullshit!"

Carlisle opened his mouth and James waved his hand slightly, as if to tell him to not say anything. It would only spur my father on more, increasing the tension to heights none of us would be able to deescalate. Two officers came jogging down the stairs, shaking their heads. "It's clear, Mr. Swan."

The other three policemen appeared at the right side of the room, coming from the hallway that led to Uncle James' office. "No one here, either."

"I didn't check the kitchen," said the shortest officer, his belly protruding over his belt. Alice's eye went wide and she stood up straighter to guard the opening.

"Wait!" Jenks stepped forward feebly and the officers stopped in their tracks. "The boy ain't here. I sent him on his way."

"What?" My father turned to Jenks in confusion, as did the rest of us.

"Jenks, you don't have to —" Carlisle said, shaking his head.

"No, the boy is mine," Jenks lied, walking to my father. "He's my flesh and blood and I sent him north to my kin, where he would be safe. You ain't gonna find him here. He's long gone."

Father looked at him suspiciously, glancing around the room. "You're lying. Don't you cover up for these criminals, Jenks."

"I'm ain't Mister Charles. I'll prove it." Jenks dug into the interior of his breast pocket, pulling out a folded paper. He opened it slowly and I glanced over at the faded black and white photograph.

Father snatched it from him, staring at the picture and frowning. "What's this supposed to prove?"

"It's a picture of me and my beloved wife. We were much younger of course, but it's us. If you look closely, you'll see something around my neck."

Father squinted, holding the picture close to his face. "A necklace. So?" Father flung the photograph and Jenks caught it before it floated to the floor.

"It's the same one I'm sure you saw around the boy's neck when you hung him, Mister Charles. He's my son and I gave it to him when he was just a toddler. These fine folks were just watching him. So if anyone's to blame, it's me."

My eyes widened and my thoughts traveled back to the day when Mother first took me to the thrift store. I remembered what Nessie had said.

" _This was donated by an older fellow a few years back," Nessie explained. "It's in very good condition and it's actually made of silver. It was a gift from his wife and after she passed, he couldn't bear to hold on to it any longer."_

The skunk necklace I gave to Lincoln originally belonged to Jenks?

Jenks winked at me as a tear escaped from my eye. I couldn't believe that after all that had happened, the present I'd given to represent protection came from the man who was protecting Lincoln now. I couldn't wrap my head around it and I trembled as Jenks stood bravely in front of Father.

"You think I believe this lie?" Father asked incredulously.

"It's true," Jenks said. "I may be old, but I do believe you understand the concept of biology, do you not, Mister Charles? I conceived that boy with a white woman after my wife passed away. She went back to Georgia, ashamed of his birth, and I've had friends take care of him ever since."

The room was stunned into silence and Father cleared his throat. "Very well then. Officers, arrest this Negro!"

Esme gasped and Carlisle wrapped an arm around her. A glance passed between Carlisle and Jenks, but Jenks nodded. "I'm doing the right thing. I'm up in my years now, anyhow. 'Bout time something exciting happened to me besides serving drinks to white folks."

Jenks laughed to himself and an officer cuffed him, twisting his hands behind his back. "You are under arrest for the prohibited conception of a biracial child, concealing the child, and assisting in the escape of an illegal criminal. You have the right to remain silent …"

"Jenks!" I cried out, running and wrapping my arms around him. I held on to him tightly and he just smiled.

"What did I tell you about all that cryin', Miss Scarlett? You keep lovin' child, just like I told you. Keep lovin' and the rest will take care of itself."

I nodded, sniffling and wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "I will, I promise."

"Our work here is done," Father announced proudly. "James, I hope to see you for dinner soon."

"You'll pay for this," Uncle James growled. "When coloreds are as free as you and I, you will reap what you sow, brother!"

Father laughed, gloating in his victory. "In your dreams. Scarlett, I will tell your mother to expect you back in a week's time. Enjoy your stay."

The police led Jenks out, but not before Esme and Carlisle gave him a hug. Jenks whispered something in Carlisle's ear, and Carlisle nodded in understanding.

"Wait!" I hollered, running to Jenks. "Your name. You said you'd tell me your name when we didn't have silk and silver platters between us."

Jenks smiled. "You already know, Miss Scarlett. Find it on your heart."

I frowned, confused by his riddle, but I didn't have a chance to respond. The officers jerked him around, nearly shoving him out of the house. Uncle James waited until they left, then he slammed the door shut and Esme collapsed into the nearest chair.

"What have we done?" she wept. "He was innocent! He'll get the death penalty!"

Carlisle kneeled beside her. "You heard what he said, honey. We'll keep fighting and when we do, we'll get him out in no time."

I ran to the kitchen as Esme wept, opening the cabinet to find Lincoln balled underneath the sink. I reached out my hand to assist him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Is it clear?"

"They're gone," I told him. "But they arrested Jenks. He said you were his son and he sent you north. They won't be back, but now Jenks will be in jail!"

Lincoln appeared shocked and devastated at the same time. "I should have come out! It's not his fault!"

Before he could have a panic attack, I shook my head. "He wanted to do it. I tried to stop him, but he wanted to do this."

Lincoln swallowed, overwhelmed by Jenks' sacrifice. The silver necklace gleamed around his neck and I immediately reached around him, unclasping it in the back.

"What are you doing?" Lincoln asked.

I didn't respond and fumbled with the skunk pendant. I ran my thumb over the etched line, touching the tip of the animal's tail. Digging my nail into the silver, I popped it open, revealing an empty crevice on the right side. But on the left the surface was smooth and had a simple word engraved in cursive, with a star carved over the letters.

 _Jacob._

His name was Jacob Jenks, born underneath the North Star.

This time I couldn't hold back and I clutched the necklace in my hand, weeping uncontrollably.

.

.

.

Over the next few days we meditated on Jenks in our hearts, but coordinated for change with our hands. The phone constantly rang and Uncle James rallied together peers he could trust. The house was filled with citizens of all colors as we prepared for our trip to Washington in two weeks. Alice, Jasper, and Jessie were in charge of making signs. James called his lawyer friends to come over to discuss Jenks' release with Esme and Carlisle. Victoria kept everyone fed with appetizers and refilled drinks as necessary.

Uncle James and Carlisle also coordinated the Nonviolent Integrated Committee (NIC) with several men. Together they flipped through legislation books and took notes. They focused on organizing ways to improve the state law regarding interracial marriage and the rights of all biracial persons being born. On a typewriter, they wrote page after page of why the barriers of such laws should be unconstitutional. Lincoln and I took turns writing briefings and heaving large books back and forth between the adults.

On Thursday at noon, Esme handed Lincoln and I each a glass of sweet tea as we sat on the floor of the living room. She kneeled down between us in the hectic room and smiled at the rough drafts of memos. "Why don't you two take a break? You've been going nonstop!"

"Can't Ma," Lincoln replied, not even looking up. "I'm writing a mission statement on NIC so the Senate will take us seriously."

"And I have the pivotal role of switching pens as he throws them across the room," I added.

Esme laughed, kissing both of us on our temples. "It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order. Up you two. Now."

Lincoln whined, but stretched his legs and stood up with his drink in hand. I did the same and Esme shooed us outside so we could relax away from the chaos. We sat on Uncle James' porch sipping our tea and Lincoln sighed.

"This feels good," he murmured.

"Our break?" I asked, soaking up the sun's rays.

Lincoln chuckled, shaking his head. "That too, I guess, but I meant all of this. We're doing something, not just talking about it. We aren't running or hiding; we're facing this head on. It's been long overdue and I have your uncle to thank for it."

I knew Uncle James would be proud to hear him say that, but also humbled by Lincoln's compliment. "He's just doing what's right and trust me, he's happy to help. He knows all the big-wigs in Alabama and with their assistance, I'm sure something's going to come of all our hard work."

Lincoln nodded in agreement. "Me too. Hey, have you called home yet?"

I winced, knowing he would ask. "No, and I'm not going home this weekend. If Father thinks I'm going to live under his roof, he's wrong. Uncle James said I could stay here as long as I like and I intend to stay for a while."

I thought Lincoln would be happy but he froze mid-sip and stared. "Wait, you're not going back to Birmingham?"

"Why should I?" I shrugged nonchalantly. "Father is delusional and Mother just does everything he tells her to. I'm happier here."

"Scarlett, you'll be an hour away," Lincoln said, stating the obvious. "I'll never see you."

My heart sunk in my chest. Despite my good intentions, I'd never thought of that. He was right; we wouldn't see each other and Carlisle and Esme didn't have enough money to travel back and forth just to visit. Uncle James would be busy and I couldn't ask Aunt Victoria to drive me to and from just to see him.

"We'll figure out something, okay?" I told him softly. "Maybe eventually I will return home, but until then, we'll make it work."

I didn't know how but a promise was a promise. If color couldn't keep us apart, I knew distance wouldn't be a factor either. Lincoln and I were meant to be together and we would do whatever it took to make our relationship last.

"Don't look so sad," I said, leaning against him and running my fingers through his curls. I liked his hair like this, when he was free to be who he was without hiding. It was as much a part of him as he was a part of me.

"I'm not," he said quietly. "I'm just thinking."

He took my hand in his, spinning the linked ring around my finger. He rolled it over and over with his thumb, musing unknown thoughts to himself.

"About what?"

Lincoln grinned and his sudden change of attitude scared the living daylights out of me. "Your favorite color's pink, right?"

"It used to be," I answered, smiling. "I'm beginning to think I like yellow more."

Lincoln laughed, throwing his head back and his Adam's apple bounced up and down in his throat. He squeezed the sides of my stomach and I shrieked, jumping up and running across the yard. He followed after me, and his long legs helped him catch up soon after. He caught me and spun me around, and we fell to the ground in a heap.

He leaned forward to kiss me when Carlisle yelled from the porch, "Victoria says it's time for lunch. Come in!"

"Yeah!" Jessica yelled beside him, one arm wrapped around Carlisle's leg. "Pa said to come in!"

Lincoln gave me a peck on my lips and we both stood up, dusting our clothes and running back to the porch. "He's not _your_ pa, Jessica. He's mine."

Jessica's bottom lip quivered and she glanced up at Carlisle, her poor little soul crumbling beneath her. "Can you be my pa too?"

Carlisle reached down and with strong arms, lifted my chubby cousin up. "I don't see why not. Although to be an honorary Masen, you've got to eat like a horse."

Jessica beamed, nodding her head, and her pigtails swung around her. "I can do that! I eat everything. I haven't eaten horse before, but I bet I'll like it a lot."

Carlisle laughed so loud I swore all of Alabama heard him, and maybe Mississippi too. His chest rumbled as he held Jessica. "Then I'll be your pa."

Hand in hand, we walked back inside to eat lunch. Jessica asked Victoria if she made horse sandwiches for lunch and wailed when my aunt told her no. Lincoln wouldn't stop touching the ring on my finger and James discussed plans for all of us to visit Jenks in jail.

As Victoria cleared the dining room table, big-mouthed Alice had the grand idea of announcing the loss of my virginity to everyone.

My aunt and uncle took it in stride, not even batting their eyes. I didn't even mind Jasper laughing, but when Esme burst into tears and yelled that her son was a heathen, it was then that I wondered if going back to Birmingham wasn't such a bad idea.


	17. Plans

**TY Cherry and Cinny for preparing this in a timely manner. I was going to post yesterday, but you know ... I giveth and I taketh away! hehe.**

 **Readers- See ya tomorrow for Ch 18! *hurray for weekend updates***

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Plans**

" _A thing is mighty big when time and distance cannot shrink it."_

 _~Zora Neale Hurston_

 _(EPOV)_

I sat at James' dining room table, typing with just one finger 'cause I wasn't too good with the typewriter yet. Scarlett had gone with her cousins and uncle to get more supplies and Pa was in the living room, discussing politics with James' friends.

"Are you almost done, honey?" Ma appeared behind me, watching me frown as I huffed and stared at the half-typed paper.

"Not yet," I replied, folding my arms. "I don't know what to write to the president. Do I say biracials or coloreds or blacks? I don't know how to label myself."

Ma sighed, sweeping her dress underneath her as she took a seat in the white wooden chair. "You can write anything, I suppose. The president will know what you mean."

"But it has to be perfect, Ma. My freedom is riding on this. Your marriage too. I have to say it right or else none of this is gonna matter."

Ma chuckled, reaching out for my hand and placing it in hers. "Oh honey, there's no such thing as being perfect. And the president is going to understand what you mean no matter what word you use."

I rolled my eyes. Ma had this way of thinking that anything I did was great as long as I tried my best. It was hogwash, that's what it was. Noticing my frustrated expression, she continued. "Did I ever tell you what happened to me as a child?"

I tilted my head, my mind spinning with a million thoughts. Ma told me everything and I wasn't sure which story she was thinking about. "The one with you and Sue breaking the neighbor's window?"

Ma laughed again, clearly lost in her memory. "No, not that one, although I still don't know how we got caught. I meant about the boy and the tree."

I racked my brain for the unfamiliar story but eventually shook my head from side to side.

"I was a little girl," Ma began, slouching back in her chair. "I was about five or so and I remember walking home from school. It was a long walk, the kind where it took forever to get home and the sun was shining so hard I thought you'd melt from the heat."

"It was that hot?"

"Oh yes," Ma said, nodding her head. "I remember I had on this little dress—the kind my own mother made me—and pigtails, because I hated my hair being in my face. Anyways, I was walking by my lonesome, down the long dirt road, when I heard singing through the trees. Oh Lincoln, it was beautiful! Soulful and full of melody. Kind of like when your father sings only without out the throat gargling at the end."

I smiled and she giggled underneath her breath. "I heard that singing Lincoln, so I followed that sound through the woods and it carried me to the edge of the river. And that's when I saw them."

"Saw who?" I prodded. Ma was stretching this story out for some reason and I wanted her to get to the climax already.

"A boy. He was handsome, about your age or so, and he was hanging. There was a group of other blacks just like him, but he was the one tied to a tree."

I gasped and Ma swallowed, struggling to get the rest of the words out. "I think I was in shock. I just stood there, you know? I mean, I understood a lot of whites didn't like blacks, but my mother and father never treated them unkindly. There was no need to. People are people no matter what color they are."

"So what happened?" I asked. "Did you save him? Did someone else?"

"No," Ma said quietly. "I stood there, Lincoln, and I did nothing. I didn't yell for help or scream when he tugged at the rope. I didn't do anything, and it haunts me to this day."

"You were just a child, Ma," I reminded her softly. "No one expected you to be a hero."

"You don't understand, baby. I watched him. It was like I couldn't peel my eyes away. And he stared right at me the entire time. I watched him live and I watched him die. I watched a white man kill a black boy and I never said a word. I never told my parents and when I did tell your Pa, it was years later. I was ashamed, I think."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was. See Lincoln, when you see wrong being done to another person, you have to do something. I could have gone for help. I could have kicked that man and given the boy and the others a chance to run. But I didn't. The reason I'm telling you this is because I'm proud of you. You're working so hard on writing these letters and trying to make a change. It's more than I ever did."

I hated seeing Ma so upset and full of guilt. Standing up, I went to her side of the table and squeezed her tightly as she wiped away a tear. "You _are_ making a difference Ma."

Ma shook her head, disagreeing.

"No really, you are," I repeated. "I mean, look at what you've done. I'm writing a stupid letter and you've already made a change. You fell in love with someone different. You didn't give a shit who cared and you loved Pa regardless. And you had me. I think that's pretty brave of you!"

Ma didn't even reprimand me for cursing. "Really?"

I nodded as Ma looked at me with watery eyes. "Yep. And if Grandma and Grandpa were still alive, I think they'd be proud of you too."

I'd never met them, but I'd like to think they were good people. They accepted my Pa after all, and that was good enough for me.

"I guess you're right. What matters is that I'm helping now," Ma responded. "And I did raise me one handsome son."

"Dapper, you mean," I said, wriggling my eyebrows. "The word is dapper."

Ma laughed and at that moment James, Scarlett, and the others returned. Jessica made a beeline for us, saw Ma crying, and managed to wiggle her way into a Masen hug.

"Don't cry, Ma," Jessica said. "It's going to be all right 'cause I gots candy and Daddy said I could share. I don't want to but if it makes you feel better you can have some of my butterscotch."

Jessica begrudgingly held out a piece of wrapped candy, but had second thoughts and took out the one in her mouth instead. "Here, you can have this one."

Jasper appeared at the entrance of the kitchen and shook his head at his little sister's antics. "Fat ass."

Ma stared at Jasper in shock before accepting Jessica's half-eaten butterscotch. Then she walked over to Jasper and stuffed it in his mouth. "Who's the fat ass now?"

I gasped, shocked that she would do and say such a thing, but even James laughed from the living room. "Good for you Esme. It's about time someone showed him some manners!"

Jessica giggled too but the fun stopped when tripped on her own chunky feet.

Maybe Jasper was right after all.

.

.

.

"You're going home tomorrow?" Scarlett asked me as Alice passed out several cards. I pretended not to notice when she hid one underneath her leg.

"I've got to," I answered sadly. "Pa called Embry and he said most stores are back open and the cotton fields are ready to be picked. 'Sides, we need the money."

"I wish you could just stay here," Alice said, peeking at a card and hiding that one too. "We're going to Washington in four days anyways."

"Then that means I'll see you both this weekend. It'll only be for a little while."

I tried not to focus on Scarlett's expression or the way she kept fumbling with the hem of her dress. It was nice being under the same roof, at least for the past week and a half. But I knew Pa and Ma had bills to pay, and the last thing we needed was for the electricity to get shut off.

"Have you decided if you're going back home yet?" I asked Scarlett, trying to change the subject.

"I have," she scowled. "And I've made up my mind. I'm staying here. Forever."

I frowned, swiping the ace card from Alice before she could hide another one. "What do you mean, _forever_?"

"I'm not going back," she said matter-of-factly. "Mother hasn't called me since Father came and arrested Jenks, and I suppose she only did then she didn't have to deal with an angry husband. She only called to get me to turn you in. She doesn't care, Lincoln, and neither do I. I'm not spending another day in that house with that asshole!"

"Scarlett!" Even Alice turned to look at her cousin in shock. "You can't live here. I mean, I'm sure Daddy won't mind, but you can't stay here forever. You have parents and … and …"

"And what, Alice? Nothing. I have nothing."

"You have me," I added quietly.

Scarlett sighed and reached for my hand. "I know. I just … you ever get tired of dealing with people?"

"No," I answered truthfully. I loved people. I finally had others to be around and itwas the best thing that had ever happened to me. I don't think I could go back to being a nobody.

"Well, I'm tired Lincoln. I'm tired of Father. He'll never change. He'll die a racist and how long are we going to be able to keep sneaking out? One of us will get caught and it'll probably be me. Without Jenks for my lookout, I'll be discovered in no time."

"So that's it?" I asked incredulously. "You're giving up, just like that? You'll be an hour away, Scarlett! I won't ever see you! Sure, maybe once in a while for the NIC meetings, but we don't even know how often that'll be!"

"I'm not 'giving up,' Lincoln, but I have a life too," Scarlett retorted with an edge of sarcasm in her voice. She flung her hair to the side and it was a reflection of the Scarlett I first met long ago.

"Maybe I should leave …" Alice started to get up and several cards stuck to her lower thigh.

"NO!" Scarlett and I both shouted. Alice glanced at us with wide eyes and sat quietly, her eyes shifting between the two of us.

"You're being selfish," I continued. "You don't even care. I've been alone my whole life and I finally have you and you're leaving me."

"And that's my fault?" she cried. "Maybe you shouldn't have _—_ "

"Shouldn't have what, Scarlett? Been born? Go ahead, finish what you were going to say! It's never stopped you before!"

I don't know what color I was turning but I felt my skin flush in anger. How dare she? I wasn't asking her to give up anything, I was asking her to go home to her parents were she belonged. Charles was evil, but he was still her father. She couldn't hide in Alice's house forever.

"Lincoln _—_ " Scarlett reached out to apologize but I turned away, jumping to my feet.

"No, I'm done. It's getting late. We're leaving early so Pa can get to work on time. Alice, I'll see you later."

"Bye Lincoln." Alice waved timidly, not wanting to pick sides. Scarlett jabbed her in the side and Alice cried out as I stormed towards the doorway. "Ow! Don't get pissy with me because you're an orphan!"

I was so angry I didn't even notice James coming down the hall. I bumped right into his tall frame, stumbling two steps back.

"Whoa there. You okay?" James asked, placing a concerned hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, too upset to really do anything else.

"My niece giving you a hard time?" he questioned with a smile.

I nodded again and he waved his hand towards the steps. "I've got just the solution."

I followed behind him down the narrow steps and made a left at the end stairwell. He led me to his office and closed the door behind him. I gazed in awe at the dark furniture and books lining the wall. He had a long desk which took up most of the room and he sat down, reaching into the second drawer. I sat across from him as he pulled out a small, brown box.

"Carlisle tells me you're a smoker," he grinned, opening the lid. "Me too, sometimes, when I get stressed. These here are expensive cigars, sent to me from a business partner."

James used a cutter to snip off the tip and lit the end with a silver lighter, spinning it several times. He puffed once and then passed it to me. I pulled on the large, round filter as if it were a cigarette and nearly coughed up my lung.

James laughed as I beat on my chest, trying to live past the ripe age of 16. "Strong, isn't it?"

"Y-yep," I sputtered out, and I felt my manhood slipping away from me.

"Pull on it slowly and puff it out," he suggested. "Not so fast this time. And don't inhale. It's a stogie."

I did as he said and the flavor of the tobacco was much smoother and not as harsh.

"Scarlett is a tough little one. Always was. She gets that from her father, I reckon. Real bull-headed, but that girl's got a soft side. She just has a tough time showing it."

"She doesn't want to go back to Birmingham," I explained, tapping the cigar on the edge of the clear glass that James handed me. "She said she's staying here."

James nodded. "Yes, we've discussed it. I told her she could if she wishes, but I'd have to talk to my brother and Renee first."

"I don't want to lose her," I sighed, puffing a few times and then putting the cigar out. "Maybe I'm being a pansy about all of this."

"No, I don't think that. You're in love and love makes you want to be with one you're meant to be with. You two crazy kids have made it this far. I don't think distance will be a factor."

I shook my head, disagreeing. "It will. I may not be as book smart as everyone else but I do know she's got to attend school in the fall. It'll be hard enough already. Throw in an hour's drive and it'll be like we never knew each other."

"You know, me and Victoria lived a long ways away from each other," James stated.

"You did?"

"Yep. We met at this show where this magician was cutting people in half and disappearing," he chuckled, smiling fondly at the memory. "All illusion if you ask me, but yep, we sat beside each other and made fun of the magician the whole time. Afterwards, we kissed behind the red curtain."

"You kissed on the first day?!" I couldn't imagine even thinking of doing such a thing, and I knew Scarlett would have never even considered it.

"Don't let Victoria fool you. She's a spicy little thing when she wants to be," he winked and I didn't even want to think of Scarlett's aunt that way.

"So how'd you do it?" I asked. "Manage the distance, I mean?"

James shrugged. "We didn't. I had her last name so I went to her hometown, found her in church Sunday morning, and marched right down the pews when the preacher was preaching."

"And?" I prodded.

"I asked her to marry me, right then and there!"

I gaped at him with an open mouth and James opened another drawer, but paused with his hand wrapped around the handle. "See, Lincoln, life is too short. When you want something bad enough, you'll do anything to keep it. After her brothers kicked my ass, we married a month later in that very church."

I smiled, but the curl of my mouth didn't quite fully reach my eyes. "I want it bad enough. I want Scarlett to be my girl for the rest of my life, but I don't think it's going to happen. And with her staying here, it'll only get worse."

"Then you do what I did," James said, pulling out a small velvet box and pushing it to my side of the desk. "I think you've gotten your ass kicked enough. Now you just gotta do the rest."

Puzzled, I lifted the small, velvet box and opened it, revealing a small diamond ring with a gold band. It sparkled underneath the lamp light and the twinkles danced around the dim room.

"That's the first ring I bought her. When I finally made it big, I got her a better one. I thought I'd pass it on to Alice, but that daughter of mine is a free spirit. And it'll be a while before Jessica thinks of anything besides donuts."

I grinned, turning the box in my hand. "I already gave her a ring, you know. But it don't look like this."

"I suppose not," James chuckled. "But you do what you need to do. And I have to say, I'd rather no one else marry that niece of mine. You're a fine boy and I'd be happy to make you a part of this family."

I swallowed, overwhelmed by his generosity. "T-thank you, James. I mean it."

"No problem. But do me a favor, Son."

"Yeah, what's that?" I mumbled, too dazed by the ring.

James shut the drawer and it was so loud, I glanced up to see him staring at me. "Wrap it up, will ya? I want a great niece or nephew, just not anytime soon."

I heard a laugh come from behind me and when I turned around, it was Pa leaning against the doorway, winking at James.


	18. Decisions

**Cherry said to tell y'all she's sorry for not having this chapter back yesterday. She tried to win her way back into my good graces with cupcakes. Screw that. Half the icing was gone, lover girl.**

 **On another note, have you ever seen The Green Mile with Michael Clarke Duncan (RIP)? That's who we imagine Carlisle to be! (thx Cherry)**

 **Cinny is emailing me illegal documents which may or may not contain questionable events. Just thought you should know.**

 **Happy Sunday y'all!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Decisions**

" _When I discover who I am, I'll be free."_

 _Ralph Ellison_

 _(IPOV)_

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Alice swatted me against my upper arm and threw out a jack card against my number three, taking the set in her victory. I was still reeling from Lincoln leaving the room without even so much as a goodbye, knowing he'd be gone by morning.

"Shut up, Alice!" I reprimanded her. "It's not fair for Lincoln to make me choose to be unhappy with my parents so I can be happy with him."

Alice rolled her eyes, dishing out another card. "You're missing the point. Lincoln isn't making you choose unhappiness. He's asking that you at least consider making up with your parents so you two can move forward."

"Shocking," I muttered. "Of course that's what he wants. Lincoln lives in this little bubble, Al. He doesn't understand people; he thinks they'll all change if they get to know him. They won't, especially Mother and Father."

"Isn't that what you should be grateful for? A boy with a good heart like his? He has the right to think how he does. Look at how far _you've_ come. Not so long ago you were calling him your little Negro boy. Now you can't spend a minute apart from him. I think in his mind, if love could change someone like you, imagine how much it could impact Uncle Charles and Aunt Renee."

I contemplated Alice's words, trying to understand Lincoln's point of view. Maybe love did change me, but Father had no reason to want to change. Degrading coloreds fed both Father's ego and his wallet. He enjoyed berating them and making them work for next to nothing. And Mother was neutral; she didn't exactly hate Lincoln, but she would never do anything to disrespect Father. And that left me with nowhere to fit in.

I finally felt like Lincoln—I had nowhere to belong and my cousin's house was my hiding place.

My heart thumped heavily in my chest and a lump was stuck in my throat. "What do I do, Alice?"

Alice shrugged, throwing out an ace. "You do what Lincoln's been doing his whole life. You forgive."

.

.

.

I didn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned, eventually falling into a restless slumber. I thought I heard Alice's door creak open sometime in the wee hours of the morning, but when I turned over, no one was there. Lincoln left without saying goodbye, and it hurt knowing he was still mad at me. By morning, I'd made up my mind that perhaps it was time to go home. I had to face Father eventually, I just wasn't so sure what I'd say. Alice and I took turns showering and I put on a simple light green shift dress, adorning my hair with a matching ribbon. Alice and I raced down the stairs, with Jessica and Jasper chasing after us.

"Hey there! Good morning!" Uncle James greeted us, turning to the side before we could knock over his mug of steaming coffee. We all walked to the kitchen table, sitting down for Aunt Victoria's breakfast of eggs, sausage, hot buttery biscuits, and fresh fruit.

Jasper and Jessica fought over the biggest biscuit and Aunt Victoria finally sat in her seat at the end of the table, sipping on orange juice. "What are everyone's plans today?"

"Well," I began slowly. "I'm very thankful that you've let me stay here for a while. But I think I might want to go home today."

"Aw, shucks!" Jessica grumbled with her mouth full.

"What changed your mind?" Uncle James asked with a sly grin. He was acting weird, like adults do when they're hiding something. Knowing him I didn't even want to know nor did I care.

"Go on," Alice prodded, taking a bite of her sausage. "Tell my parents about all of the wisdom I bestowed upon you in your time of need."

I kicked her under the table, causing her to cry out. "No reason. I just figured I eventually need to talk to Father. I hate that we're not speaking."

"Good for you," Aunt Victoria stated. "Unfortunately, I need to mail all of these letters everyone has written and run a few errands. James?"

"Of course I'll drive you," my uncle grinned. "Anything for my favorite niece."

"Your _only_ niece," I reminded him and he laughed, his coffee sloshing back and forth in his mug, but he didn't spill a single drop.

.

.

.

Aunt Victoria made Jasper stay behind to look after Jessica, but Alice tagged along with my uncle and I. We drove the long way back to Birmingham and my stomach felt like it was tangled in knots. I didn't know what I was more scared of—meeting with Father or actually trying to convince him that Lincoln and I were meant to be together. I wanted to tell him he wasn't going to keep us apart, and that was one of the stipulations of me coming home for good. I had a lot of nerve trying to push an ultimatum on my parents, but at the moment it was all I could come up with. Alice tried to keep me occupied, singing my favorite songs off key, but I didn't say a word until Uncle James drove into my gated community.

It seemed surreal, like I had lived another life since the protest, but our side of town was untouched. The magnificent homes were still standing, the lawns still freshly mowed. It was only me that had changed and it was like the Alabama air knew it too. Uncle James parked in our driveway, but I was too anxious to even notice Father's vehicle wasn't there.

"You want me to walk in with you?" Uncle James asked softly.

I shook my head. "No, I better do this alone."

"All right. But I'll stay parked here, just in case," he suggested.

I unlocked the door from the back, dragging my luggage across the seat. I heaved it through the opening and slammed the car door behind me. Sighing, I made the walk across the pavement and up the sidewalk leading to our front door. I twisted the doorknob, but it was locked. Knocking lightly, I shifted my feet side to side and waited for one of my parents to open it.

It was Mother who answered and she gasped, covering her mouth as her eyes welling up in tears. "My darling Scarlett! You're home!"

I dropped my suitcase to the floor with a thud. She wrapped me in a hug, which I timidly returned, patting her back softly. "Mother."

"Come on in dear! Don't just stand out there! You'll get flustered and tan that beautiful fair skin of yours."

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" I replied sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant, Scarlett," Mother sighed.

"Where's Father?" I asked, glancing around from the doorway.

Mother shrugged. "Who knows? He said he was going to clean his shoes or something."

"Shoes?" I frowned.

"I don't know, honey. Please come in. You're letting all the heat inside the house."

I took one step forward when the color drained from my face. My father's quote lingered in my head, creating a sense of fear and dread.

" _Scarlett, there's no such thing as Negro friends. You're either white or the shit beneath my shoes. You can't be both."_

"Mother, does Father know the Masens are back in town?"

Mother appeared puzzled and pushed together her perfectly arched eyebrows. "Doesn't everyone? Today's the day stores opens back up —businesses, restaurants—everything. They finally cleaned up the streets and repaired the broken windows. If you ask me, it took way too long! I've been needing to—"

I didn't let her finish. I raced from my house, running back to Uncle James' car. My feet felt like lead, as if I could never run fast enough. Mother screamed my name and I jerked the car door open, leaping inside.

"Scarlett, what's wrong?" Uncle James questioned.

"It's Father," I rushed out. "He's not home and Lincoln's in danger! I just know it! You have to hurry!"

Uncle James peeled out of the driveway backwards, his tires screeching and creating a cloud of gray smoke. "Which way?"

I was so frazzled I couldn't think straight. I'd only been to Lincoln's house once, and that was in the middle of the night after Father attempted to kill him. My knees bounced and I clutched onto Alice's seat in front of me.

"Left," I pointed at the intersection. "No right! Go right!"

"It's going to be okay," Alice said, attempting to soothe me. "Maybe you're worried over nothing."

"You don't know Father," I answered miserably. "Locking up Jenks wasn't enough. If he thinks Carlisle and Esme helped him, he'll go after them too. When he discovers Lincoln is still in town, he'll kill him!"

I yelled at my uncle to make a turn at the narrow dirt road. He did as I directed and we drove in a blur past farmhouses and the open fields. I could see Lincoln's small house in the distance and gasped at the array of vehicles parked in their yard and driveway.

Uncle James pushed down the gas pedal, pressing the car to go as fast as it could. He came to a rapid stop on the grass, causing us all to lurch forward. I jumped out of the car first, not even waiting for him to remove his keys. There were people of all colors in Lincoln's yard, whites with fire torches and blacks holding baseball bats. Not a single policeman was there and Father was standing on the porch with a pistol in his hand, holding it to Esme's temple.

Carlisle and Lincoln were nowhere to be found.

I pushed through the divided crowd as Father yelled, holding a crying Esme against his front. "…and that's why Negro lovers must be destroyed! They are poisoning this very freedom our forefathers fought so hard to defend!"

"Father!" I screamed. "Stop it! Let her go!"

Father seemed surprised to see me but quickly regained his composure. "Go home, Scarlett. Let us adults deal with this!"

Uncle James and Alice appeared behind me, aghast by Father's behavior. "Brother, I'm warning you. You're causing a scene. Let her be and tell these folks to leave before someone gets killed."

"Then my purpose will be accomplished here! You think I'm a fool? I know that Negro boy wasn't Jenks' son. But I've got me a colored locked up and that's one less ignorant fool off the streets!" Father laughed maliciously and it was like I could feel the evil flowing off of him in waves. It rose through the crowds, each person devouring his wickedness and spreading it to the person beside them.

"Kill the Negro lover! Kill the Negro lover!" the whites chanted, taking Father's side.

The blacks yelled for black power and I knew then that this was never going to stop. Each side had their own agenda, each fighting for what they thought was right. They were all wrong. Hate would rip them apart, limb by limb, until no one was left.

Racism was like that—it tore through people's hearts, shredding their humanity until we all became nothing but lifeless souls.

I watched in horror as a thin black man took advantage of Father's distraction and plowed right into Esme and Father. He knocked them to the ground and Esme stood to her feet and ran, making a dash right into Uncle James' arms. The man wrangled with Father and won, grabbing the gun in a flash. He hovered over Father, pointing the pistol to the back of his head.

I screamed again, so loudly my own ears pierced in agony from the sound. I closed my eyes, unable to watch the events unfolding around me.

"Don't."

A calm, quiet voice came like a whisper in the wind and the surrounding gasps made me open my eyes. Standing behind the man with a gun and Father was Lincoln.

The black man tilted his head. "Man, you're one of us. Don't you want to see this white cracker dead?"

Lincoln shook his head. "I don't want to see anyone dead, not even the man who tried to kill me. I want to see peace."

"Peace?" Someone yelled from the mob and I wasn't even sure which side it came from. "There'll never be peace in Birmingham!"

"And why's that?" Lincoln questioned boldly. "Because you said so? Or because you won't allow it? This here is exactly what's wrong with our nation!"

Lincoln stepped forward, pointing at the angry whites. "You! You are the reason why a black man can't even raise his family. Doesn't he deserve the same rights and the same dignity and the same jobs? What if someone told you that you were banned from even going to a water fountain when you were thirsty?"

A black woman cheered. "You tell 'em!"

Lincoln shook his head and pointed to the black crowd. "And you are no better! My girl was almost raped by one of yours! You want black power? You can't have power if the whites won't respect you. And why should they when all you do is fight amongst your own kind? How is someone calling them crackers any better than them calling you a Negro?"

A complete silence fell over both mobs and they looked guiltily at one another.

"Killing each other isn't going to achieve anything," Lincoln proclaimed. "One day it'll be your son or daughter—or your wife or husband—that loses their life over this madness. You want peace? You need to work for it! Stop dividing over color. Stop treating each other like you're different. Look at the person inside. And you do that by loving one another. I don't know about you, but I feel this Alabama heat 'cause it's hot as hell outside. And sometimes I feel pain. And sometimes I feel happiness. I feel it all 'cause I'm a person. My heart doesn't know a color. It just keeps on beating and yours will too if you stop all this nonsense."

"What do you know?" someone shouted. "You're a mutt. You don't know what we've been through!"

"Don't I?" Lincoln questioned. "My name is Edward Lincoln Masen and I've been hiding since the day I was born. You think I don't know what it's like to be hated? I do. I'm too light to be black and too dark to be white. I don't fit in anywhere. Don't tell me you're suffering. You don't know what suffering is until you lose a war you never asked to be a part of. Reality has hit me hard and I had to make a choice. Give up or keep on fighting."

Uncle James squeezed my shoulder, listening to Lincoln stand up courageously to those who had once treated him in an undignified manner.

"And today, folks, I'm fighting. Not to choose a side, or to decide which color fits me better, but to love you all in spite of that. I love you," he said, pointing to a white woman. "Cause if you're anything like my ma, I know you care unconditionally. I love you 'cause you're a reflection of women that birth babies that should have the right to have their children and be in public, no matter what race they are."

I heard a rumbling sound behind me, followed by the thump of a door shutting. I didn't even turn around to see who it was, too entranced by Lincoln's speech.

"And I love you," Lincoln continued, gesturing towards a black man, "if you're anything like my pa. Strong and mighty and taking on this world no matter what it throws at him."

The crowd nodded in agreement, murmuring to those around them.

"If you want to continue battling, living in a city in a state of chaos, then keep on. Keep on burning babies and wait to see if yours is next. Keep on locking your doors, forbidding a man to enter when he just wants to drink. One day it will be you, thirsty and alone, wondering why someone doesn't have the heart to help you. But I, for one, am done. I'm tired of living in fear and trying to justify others' actions by telling myself, 'these people don't know any better'. You _do_ know better. So do it. Live better. Be better. Love better."

My eyes welled up with tears as Lincoln slid the gun out of the black man's grasp, sparing my father's life. He held his hand out to my father, waiting to help him up.

Father opened his eyes widely, not understanding why Lincoln would want to help him after everything he'd done.

"Fix this," Lincoln told him, not moving his outstretched arm. "You've got a daughter out there, debating if she should live an hour away because she's too afraid to love me underneath her own roof. You don't have to love me. Hell, you don't even have to like me, but you've got to love your daughter more than you hate coloreds."

I blinked with tears streaming down my face as Father glanced at me with a sadness I'd never seen before. He swallowed the lump in his throat and I knew there were all sorts of thoughts running through his head.

He turned to Lincoln, and then back to me. I nodded my head and he finally stared at Lincoln for what felt like forever. Father reached for Lincoln's hand and Lincoln helped him up, causing the once frenzied mob to clap and cheer.

"Hey!" someone shouted towards the steps, "what did you say your name was?"

Carlisle swept past me, strutting towards his son with a proud grin on his face.

"He's a Masen," Carlisle answered, "through and through."


	19. Breathing

**Chapter Nineteen: Breathing**

" _It isn't where you came from, it's where you're going that counts."_

 _Ella Fitzgerald_

 _(EPOV)_

If this was the road to freedom, I'd rather be walking.

James borrowed a bus from a local Baptist church just so we could make it up to Washington, and the whole way everyone fussed. Jasper kept flicking the back of Scarlett's head, Jessica continued touching my face, Alice wouldn't stop talking, and Ma had had it up to here.

I know 'cause that's what she yelled out loud and even though the others weren't her children, she treated them as so. She turned around from the second row and gave the "Ma glare" so hard Jasper gulped and slowly put his hand down. Jessica had my cheek in mid-pinch and just when I thought I'd be bruised, she released it in exchange for a piece of candy. Scarlett stuck her tongue out at Jasper and Victoria wagged her finger at both of them.

It was about five in the morning and I just wanted to sleep in peace. I didn't care how much chicken Ma fried, I'd rather listen to them clucking than listen to another story of Alice and the boy she kissed underneath the willow tree.

"How much further Pa?" I asked, holding Scarlett's hand between us.

Pa held a map in his hand, turning it this way and that in the front seat. "Three hours, I reckon."

"Three and a half," James corrected, bustling down the road and jerking the large bus side to side. "We just entered Virginia."

Alice groaned, but I was too busy soaking in the view of the highway and the large, open fields.

"Did you live here?" I asked Scarlett.

She shook her head, smiling. "Nope. We lived further north in the city. It was sort of like Birmingham, but bigger. I do miss being in Virginia though. We attended theaters and fancy dinners and … well, I miss those things, I think."

I could feel the nostalgia running through her and wondered what her life was like before moving to Alabama. It was probably peaceful compared to all of the drama we'd gone through that summer.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Victoria said, turning around. "Scarlett, did you call Charles before we left the gas station?"

"Yes, ma'am. He said that he loved me and he hoped we had a safe trip," she replied.

James laughed from the driver's seat. "Well I'll be. Looks like that brother of mine isn't so bad after all. You gave 'em hell, Lincoln."

I wasn't so sure about that. I didn't think Scarlett's father could change his racist views overnight, but his relationship with his daughter was a start.

"That he did," Pa agreed, turning around to give me a proud grin. He was still on cloud nine, bragging to his friend Embry on the phone about my speech and how I made the townsfolk feel awfully ashamed of themselves.

I expected Embry to be shocked Pa had a son in the first place, but I could hear his chuckling in the background. "You think I'm dumb, Carlisle? Do you know how many times I've seen a sock hanging out of your kitchen dumbwaiter?"

I guess I wasn't a secret anymore and it felt good just to be known.

"What are you smiling about?" Scarlett whispered, digging her elbow into my side. "You think you're the bees knees, don't you?"

"I do not!" I replied, smirking. "I was just doing what was right. And 'sides, I think I looked quite dignified, don't you think? Like Jesus on the mountaintop, only it was a front porch and all."

Alice snickered and rolled her eyes. "A rickety porch, you mean."

"Hey now!" Pa yelled defensively. "I built that porch with my own two bare hands. Nailed every wood and measured the railing myself."

Ma sighed, knowing where the conversation was turning. "Carlisle, you and I both know it's crooked and it's because you broke your saw halfway through and refused to buy a new one!"

"Watch it, woman! You complain about my building skills and you complained about my flowers. I work myself to the bone _—_ "

"Weeds, darling," Ma reminded him. "They were weeds."

I groaned, sinking down into the seat as they started a new debate. James had the audacity to jump in and Ma ripped him a new one. Victoria stopped Jessica from licking the sticky candy off of her dress and Jasper took the opportunity to flick Scarlett in the head again.

I watched the Virginia land roll by through the streaked window and despite all the fussin', it was the best time I'd had in a long time.

.

.

.

I knew we'd reached the capital long before we ever got there. The traffic came to a standstill and there were folks everywhere! I'd never seen so many people in my life. They were people of all colors too _—_ black, white, and everything in between. They marched towards the capitol, with their arms linked and singing songs of freedom.

"Would you look at that?" James announced, watching the demonstrators stroll past us. "It's got to be what, 50,000 people?"

We all glanced out the windows in awe, reading the signs and staring at the busy streets.

"Much more than that," Pa said, pointing outward. "Look up ahead."

Pa was right. From our view, we could see people walking towards a tall white building that appeared to reach all the way to heaven. It was like God himself had made it and I knew it was a sign of good things to come.

"What's that?" I asked, staring in astonishment.

"The Washington Monument," Ma explained. "That's where everyone's headed to."

"Looks like we'll have to park here," James said, steering the bus to the left and parking behind a long line of vehicles on the sidewalk. "Everyone ready to march?"

"I have to pee!" Jessica whined, bouncing her legs up and down.

"Well hold it," Victoria snapped. "Lincoln's been waiting for this moment his whole life. Your potty trip will have to wait."

Jasper laughed at his little sister and Ma opened the side door. "Here we go. One step at a time. No pushing."

Alice and Jasper and everyone stood up around me, making their way out. For some reason, I couldn't find it in me to move. My feet were planted on the metal floor and I took several breaths. It was too overwhelming. In my head, I was expecting the march to be like the rally in Birmingham. It wasn't even close. There were no police spraying hoses or people shooting bullets into the air. It was loud, but calm. Everyone had a common mission: peaceful demonstration.

Scarlett stood at the doorway, waiting for me to stand. "What's wrong, Lincoln?"

I shook my head, unable to speak for a moment. Chills and sweat ran down the back of my neck and I couldn't believe this was all happening.

16 years of hiding.

16 years of being ashamed of who I was.

16 years of fighting a fight I thought I was in all by myself.

A white mother walked by, holding a toddler in her arms. A biracial toddler. A little girl who probably wouldn't even remember this day, but I would. I would remember the way my heart thumped in my chest and the dampness on my palms. I would remember the little girl, giggling and laughing, as one of her shoes dangled from her feet.

I swallowed, patting my pockets, one of them heavier than the other. I glanced at my pretty Scarlett, her curls swinging in the early morning light. She was beautiful, wearing a yellow dress with a bow in her hair. She grinned, holding out her hand.

I would remember that too.

"Nothing," I replied, grinning and reaching out for her. "Everything is perfect."

She smiled, all white teeth and pale skin that illuminated my world. I stepped onto the pavement, slamming the door shut behind me.

James was at the back of the bus, pulling out signs. "Everybody pick one."

We all reached for a sign, but I picked one Scarlett had made. It had one word: Birmingham.

Maybe to others it didn't mean anything, but to me, it meant a life I didn't want to return to. I expected a new beginning after this march. Maybe it was too much to ask for, but I was a prayer and I didn't mind asking God for just a little bit more.

I felt my necklace press against my chest in the stale heat. Scarlett wrapped her arm around mine, James wrapped his around Pa's, and Victoria wrapped hers around Esme's. Alice, Jasper, and Jessica followed behind, and we marched.

We marched for freedom and rights and the liberty to be exactly who we were without shame. The people around us started singing and little Jessica tugged on Ma's dress.

"Ma?" she asked, copying the nickname for my mother. "What's that song?"

We all listened to the tune, feeling the gospel hymn run through our bones.

"Wade in the water  
Wade in the water, children  
Wade in the water  
God's gonna trouble the water…"

Ma choked at the sound and her eyes welled up. "That's the song of freedom, sweetie. We're wading. Wading for that little boy."

Pa kissed Ma's forehead and we sang along, each step leading us closer and closer to the monument. Other citizens walked around us and a white woman I didn't even know looked over at me and grinned.

"What's it like?" Scarlett whispered to me, interrupting the song.

"Being yellow?" I frowned, almost stopping in my tracks.

"No silly," she smiled, her brown eyes beaming. "Being you?"

I glanced at the white woman and she couldn't help herself. She ruffled my unruly curls, winking at me and gesturing to my sign. I guessed others knew the struggles we had in Birmingham and she was letting me know everything would be all right, even for a biracial like me.

"It's like…" I stumbled over my words, trying to make them sound right. "It's like being born again, but this time, everyone knows it."

Scarlett leaned over, kissing my cheek. "Well then, Edward Lincoln Masen, Happy Birthday."

I grinned sheepishly, feeling a burst of joy in my soul.

Happy Birthday to me.

.

.

.

The day was long, full of speakers and singers and civil rights activists speaking on behalf of humanity as a whole. I don't know how we did it, but James managed to get us closer and closer to the steps until we were right at the front. A railing divided us, but we were so close I could see the sweat trickling down the foreheads of the leaders.

Our bellies were full because of the kindhearted people who passed out sandwiches and water to the marchers. Jessica was worn out and Pa held her sleeping body in his arms.

We listened intently to the promises of jobs for blacks, for equal wages, and for marriages to be made legal. They were inspiring and I thought for once, maybe we had made a difference in James' living room. All those hours of writing letters and typing memos and making signs were worth it.

Maybe, just maybe, our freedom was on the horizon.

Pa nudged me, pointing to the front of the group, and I barely heard the announcer introduce the next speaker.

"I'm proud to present ... rtin … Luth … ing … Jr."

The crowd bellowed in deafening applause as the man took the stage. Scarlett wrapped her hand in mine as the sun beat down that afternoon. We were sweating in the sweltering heat and my ears rang from the noise around me.

"Pa, who's that man?" I asked.

"Same one who wrote a letter from Birmingham jail," he explained.

"Where Jenks is?" I questioned.

"That's right, Son. He said that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

"Wow," I commented. "That's powerful."

"Sure is." Pa answered, adjusting Jessica on his chest. "And when we get Jenks out, justice will prevail."

I might have been a little more tired than I would ever admit to. My feet hurt from standing and my muscles ached from walking. Scarlett rested her head on my shoulder and I tried not to doze off. I didn't hear all of the speech, but I heard several parts that made me lift my head.

"… _Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed."_

"… _I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood."_

"… _I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."_

" _Free at last,"_ the speaker ended in triumph. _"Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."_

And that's when I felt it above the roar of the crowd. I felt free. I felt like I could change Birmingham. Maybe not today, and maybe not with another long typed letter, but someday I would make a difference. I had a dream too, and in it, Scarlett was wearing a long white dress and saying I do.

I had a dream we would be married, despite the color of our skin, despite all that we'd had to overcome. I felt that dream in my heart, pounding with the love of the girl who I'd met in secret at the top of a treehouse.

"Free at last," I whispered to myself, with tears streaming from my eyes. "I am free at last."

"Lincoln?" Scarlett glanced at me with concern, but I shook my head. I was fine. In fact, I was more than fine. I was happy—the kind of happy most folks like me didn't deserve in a single lifetime.

I didn't know what I was doing, but my left knee hit the ground before I could stop myself.

"Scarlett Isabella Swan?"

Scarlett gasped, covering her open mouth in disbelief. Her bottom lip trembled as I took her hands in my own.

"Scarlett, I … you …"

My throat ran dry and I felt everything I had wanted to say in my heart disappear. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but I glanced towards the stage.

It was him, the speaker, who gave me a thumbs up and grinned.

"Freedom," he mouthed. "Be free at last."

And then he disappeared as he walked away.

Every ounce of emotion swelled in my heart and I had no other choice but to tell Scarlett I loved her.

"I love you," I finally said. "I love you in ways you can't even imagine. I love that you brought me out of my hiding space. I love that you love me for exactly who I am. I love you for you, for going against everything just to make me the man I want to be. I love you so much Scarlett and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I think that maybe I loved you when you didn't even know love was possible. Most folks don't see the beauty in that, but if they saw what I felt, maybe they'd be a little less blind. So thank you Scarlett, for seeing me because I see you too. I ain't got much …"

I fumbled, digging in my pocket and pulling out the ring. The flowers I had saved were wilted from the long day in the sun and a few fell to the ground. Scarlett cried and giggled at the same time as I picked up a few.

"…but I promise to love you forever and ever in our own little kingdom. We've slayed those dragons today, so will you do me the favor of giving me a happily ever after? Scarlett, will you marry me?"

Scarlett nodded and I heard Alice squeal in the background. "Answer him already!"

"Yes!" she laughed. "Yes, I will marry you!"

I placed the diamond ring on her left finger and stood to my feet. I lifted her in my arms, swinging her around in a circle and kissing her passionately with our families surrounding us. They clapped and cheered and Pa nudged Ma with his elbow.

"See? I told you they weren't weeds!"

We all laughed and right there, Pa placed a hand on my shoulder. "I think you two make a fine couple."

"Thanks Pa, but I already knew she was going to say yes."

Scarlett slapped me on my chest, her diamond sparkling in the summer sun. "Hush you! How did you know?"

"The first time I gave you weeds you smiled. That's how I knew you would eventually marry me. You deserve all the roses in the world," I explained, "but you accepted those flowers without hesitation."

"Most men would've been killed giving their girl a gift like that," Ma replied sarcastically.

I glanced between Pa and Scarlett, grinning widely. "Yeah, but I'm breathing, aren't I?"

Pa burst into laughter, shaking God's green earth to its core.

"That you are, boy," he rumbled, embracing Scarlett and I in a hug. "That you are."


	20. Finally

**HURRAY! FF is back and working! Well, I have good news and bad news:**

 **The good news? It's my 30th birthday! Woot woot!**

 **The bad news? This is the end of Birmingham!**

 **So, thank you dearly to my Beta, Cherry, whom I love more than life and to my pre-reader, Cinny, who rocks my freaking world!**

 **Readers- I am beyond grateful that you gave this story a chance. ILY, always. Without further ado...here is the end. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Finally**

 _"We, the people." It is a very eloquent beginning. But when that document [the Preamble to the US Constitution] was completed on the seventeenth of September in 1787, I was not included in that "We, the people." I felt somehow for many years that George Washington and Alexander Hamilton, just left me out by mistake._

 _But through the process of amendment, interpretation and court decision I have finally been included in "We, the people."_

 _~Barbara C. Jordan_

 _(EPOV)_

They say it's easier to kill a man's spirit than to actual kill the man himself.

I learned that the hard way, when we finally made it back to Birmingham from Washington.

Our hearts were filled with joy; the kind that grew with every mile, each beat thumping with the possibility that change was a' coming. That speaker gave us hope, and with that hope came courage and the likelihood that our battle with racism was over.

He was wrong in a way. It took a lot more than hope to transform the hearts of men who'd rather see us dead than see blacks be free like whites.

James turned down our road singing, and we were singing too. It was a song from the march and we were so busy trying to outshine the person beside us that no one noticed our house until we pulled up right in front of it.

Ma screamed first, and then me, and possibly Pa, but I can't remember 'cause all I saw was him reaching for the bus door. Ma beat him to it, running across the yard, but there was nothing to run to.

We were gone for just two days and our house was burned to the ground.

A cross stood in the yard, draped in a white cover and labeled with three letters that were all the same: KKK.

I smelled the smoke as it rose from the ashes, filling the air with the unmistakable stench of hatred. Everything was gone: the porch, the roof, the walls, everything. Broken glass was scattered along the barrier, and even the strongest of wood was jumbled in heap of rubble.

Pa grabbed Ma before she could run any closer and they both fell to the ground, crying and hugging.

I knew Ma wasn't upset about the house itself, but the things inside of it. Most of the furniture we had was from her parents, along with photographs of herself when she was just a child. A house could be rebuilt, but memories had a way of fading if you didn't have anything to remember them by. Pictures couldn't be replaced and neither could the quilt that Grandma made with her needle and thread.

"It's all right, Esme. It's all right." Pa tried to soothe Ma, but there wasn't anything he could say that would make her feel better. Her face was red and swollen with tears and she clasped onto Pa for support. She wasn't a silent crier either, and I swore all of Alabama heard the grief that came from Ma's soul. Her thick lashes clumped together, just barely covering her bloodshot eyes. Her hands opened and closed, rhythmically clenching as if it were the only solution to somehow ease her pain.

Pa took her right side and I took her left, and together we helped her back onto the bus. Victoria held onto Ma, whispering quiet words in her ear. James was less considerate with his choice of words, and he cursed with a vocabulary that made even Jessica hold her hands up to her ears. He threatened to sue the county, the police department, the state, and even the nation. He vowed to find the racist bastards and I quote, "light their white asses on fire and see how they liked it."

Scarlett rubbed my hand in circles, her ring shining in the midst of tragedy. It was the only thing that kept me from getting upset too, and eventually I just laid my head in her lap. She strummed her fingers through my hair, humming softly to herself. It calmed me down, and I concentrated on staring at the seat in front of me until I closed my eyes.

We remained that way until we arrived back at her uncle's house, every person contemplating his and her own silent thoughts. James was nice enough to offer my family and I to stay with him as long as we liked.

We were grateful, of course, but there was just one little problem.

It wasn't home.

.

.

.

"You sweep the floor," Victoria said to Jessica, "and Lincoln, you wash the dishes."

It was sometime after breakfast, two days after we'd started staying with Scarlett's family, that good news arrived. The adults sat in the living room as James and Pa discussed NIC matters.

"I don't wanna sweep!" Jessica whined, stomping her feet. "I wanna dry the dishes."

"Shut up and do it already," Jasper replied and he swat his sister with a dishrag.

"Cut it out!" Alice yelled, shoving Jasper to the side.

The next thing I knew, Jasper lunged for Alice, but she dodged him and he ended up running head first into my chest. Scarlett got mad and jumped onto his back and Jessica screamed, punching Jasper on the arm. The five of us ended up in a pile, our limbs tangled when the doorbell rang.

We could hear Victoria answer the door, but I was too busy trying to wrestle Jessica away from biting Scarlett.

"Get off of me!" Scarlett screamed.

"You taste like candy!" Jessica mumbled with a full mouth.

More words were spewed and just as I finally put Jasper in a headlock, my eyes traveled to the shiny black shoes that stood in front of us.

"Why Miss Scarlett, that's no way for a lady to welcome her favorite old man."

"Jenks?"

Scarlett glanced up, and right in front of us stood a grinning Jenks, all white teeth and wearing his black suit like he hadn't missed a day.

"Jenks!" Scarlett squealed and scrambled from our grips, running to Jenks with open arms. He laughed as she squeezed him tightly and caused him to stumble several steps back. "You're here! How did you —?"

"I got a letter from the president stating that I be released immediately," Jenks explained. "I reckon you don't know where that came from?"

Scarlett shook her head, confused. "It wasn't me."

"I did it," I admitted, loosening Alice's hold from my arm. "I had no idea he'd actually read it though."

"You wrote a letter to the president?" Scarlett asked in awe.

"Well, sure," I replied, shrugging. "It was my fault he was locked up to begin with. I couldn't live with myself if he was stuck there. I was hoping I could get him out. I'm glad it worked."

"Thank you," Jenks responded. "That's mighty kind of you."

"Aw, it won't nothing," I grinned shyly. "We're just glad you're back."

"Are you thirsty?" Scarlett questioned, tugging on his arm and leading him to the kitchen table. "What was it like? Did they feed you there? Were they cruel? Did you miss us?"

"Calm down," James chuckled, standing at the kitchen doorway with the other adults. "Let the man relax."

"I don't mind," Jenks offered. "I'll tell you all about it …"

We all stood around Jenks and Victoria offered him a glass of orange juice. He told us about his nights in jail, how he met other activists, and how the guards were nicer than he thought.

"That was awfully kind of you, Son," Pa whispered in my ear. "You did a good thing."

"Thanks, Pa," I answered sheepishly, brushing off his compliment.

But I was proud of myself in a way. We may have lost a lot, but we gained something greater. Having Jenks released was better than having all the houses in the world.

.

.

.

"Scarlett."

"Scarlett."

I roused her from her sleep in the middle of the night, shaking her shoulder. She groaned, turning over and tossing her arm over Alice.

"Scarlett," I hissed. "Wake up."

After several more nudges, she opened her eyes, rubbing them and searching in the darkness.

"C'mon," I whispered. "Get up."

"What's wrong?" she mumbled.

"Nothing," I grinned. "It's midnight, remember? You were supposed to meet me. But everyone's sleeping so be quiet."

I helped her out of bed and we snuck out of Alice's room. Scarlett followed me down the stairs and into the last spare room on the first floor. I shut the door behind us, locking the dead bolt.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I fell asleep."

"It's okay," I whispered, wrapping my arm around her in the large bed. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. It's always crowded around here."

"Yeah," she yawned, curling into me. "But a happy crowded. I'm glad Jenks is back."

"Me too. I feel bad he stayed in jail as long as he did."

Scarlett turned her body around so she was facing me, and traced my jaw lightly. "It's not your fault. He told you so, remember?"

"Maybe, but I still feel responsible. It's been weighing on me. I don't know how to pay back a sacrifice like that."

"You're not supposed to. A sacrifice is like a gift. Jenks is a good person. He wanted to make sure you were safe and you were. Besides, it's done and over with. We've got lots to look forward to."

"We do," I smiled sadly. "Only I'm not so sure how it's supposed to all work out. Our house is burnt to smithereens and even though we still have our truck, Pa can't drive to work an hour away every day. It's a mess."

"Hey," Scarlett said gently. "It'll work out, okay? Don't worry so much. I'll be here, I promise. I already called Father today and told him. He's all right with me staying a little longer."

"You've got school starting soon," I reminded her.

"Three weeks. Until then, I'm all yours. We'll figure the rest out later."

"Okay," I sighed, half-defeated. It always seemed like we were on a timeline and the world was out to get us. Maybe Scarlett was right —it would work itself out. I just didn't know how and I was sure Pa was just as stressed out as I was.

Scarlett always had a way of making me forget my worries and she kissed me softly, wrapping her legs around mine.

"I have a confession," she murmured against my lips.

"What is it?" I questioned softly.

"I thought I lost you. The day we got back to Birmingham, I mean. The look in your eyes … I don't know. It was like your life was over. And then you just laid there and I wasn't sure you could handle this … us … anymore."

I stared at her blankly, wondering why she would ever entertain such a thought. I leaned forward, kissing her deeply and letting my tongue brush across her pink bottom lip. "You didn't lose me, Scarlett, and you never will. I think I was in shock—more for my parents than for me. It felt like we'd conquered the world in Washington, and then it was like we came back and it was worse than ever. I didn't mean to scare you. You're the most important thing to me, always."

I brushed my fingertips across her cheek and we pressed our foreheads together. I gazed at her intently, vowing to myself that I would never let her think I wasn't in this fully. Emotions raced between us, sparking love and devotion than outweighed any bad that would ever threaten our relationship.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you forever," I replied. Scarlett smiled and it was like everything that divided us didn't matter. We had so many things that could keep us apart—our races, our classes, our age—but I knew it didn't make a difference when we had each other.

I lifted her nightgown lightly, just enough to expose the skin across her stomach. She closed her eyes, humming as I placed soft kisses along her collarbone. My hands roamed up and down her body and she placed hers around the nape of my neck. I started to pull her nightgown off, but paused.

"May I?" I asked, searching her eyes for permission. She nodded, and I pulled the silky material above her head. I laid it on the bed beside us, gazing at her exposed breasts in the dim light of the moon. "You're so beautiful, Scarlett."

I brought my lips closer to her, sprinkling kisses along the dip in her throat. I hovered between her breasts and she gasped when I made contact with my fingertips. Her nipples hardened and I rubbed the buds gently with the pads of my thumbs. Her head fell to the pillow and her body arched towards me. I used the opportunity to stick my tongue out, swirling it around one nipple while using my other hand to massage the opposite breast. She gasped as I sucked gently, digging her nails into my skin and writhing. Her reaction made me groan and I felt myself harden immediately.

"How does it feel?" I murmured, switching to her left breast and pulling her nipple in my mouth.

"Good," she replied breathlessly.

"Just good?" I asked, hesitating and raising an eyebrow.

"Perfect," she corrected. "Please. Don't stop."

I smiled and nodded, kissing her neck and allowing one hand to travel between her legs. I caressed her softly, but the outside of her damp panties was driving me crazy. Moaning, I rubbed her in slow, steady circles, concentrating on not coming right then and there.

"Scarlett, baby," I choked out with a gritty voice. "You're so wet."

She grabbed my face, kissing me roughly and I slipped my hands into the thin material. She gasped involuntarily in my mouth as I pressed firmly and rubbed circles around her soft curls below. Her legs spread apart, giving me better access, but she moved her feet up and down the sheets. When her legs started to tremble, I increased the pace of my hand, and licked my way back down to her chest. I licked her nipple again, flicking it with my tongue as she grabbed the bed sheets, twisting them in her fists.

Scarlett whimpered, and I felt the heat coming from her body. She was beyond beautiful like this: her eyes closed, her skin flushed with desire, and her hair splayed out across the bed. I was grateful she was mine and even more so that I was able to make her feel this way. She breathed erratically, singing my name, and jerked her hips upward. I used my other free hand to flick her abandoned nipple at a quickened speed and she cried out, writhing beneath me as her entire body quivered. I groaned, watching her ride out her orgasm, her checks flushing the color of budding roses. I didn't stop with my hand as the sensations ran through her, her legs trembling as if she were having muscle spasms. Finally, her cries quieted and I kissed her softly on the lips. I kept my hand between her thighs, caressing the fine hairs softly.

I didn't say anything, not wanting to ruin the moment, and allowed her to catch her breath. I moved slowly, letting my fingertips leave a wet trail up her stomach, past her belly button, and between her breasts. I stopped right at her chin and slipped my fingers in my mouth, tasting her with my tongue. Her eyes widened as I pulled them out, placing them just over her lips. She opened her mouth slowly and I watched in amazement as she licked her own juices from my fingers.

Need coursed through my body and seeing her do something so damn erotic made me smirk with pleasure. "Damn, baby. That was … was …"

"Sexy?" she asked, matching my crooked grin with one of her own.

"Hell yeah," I growled and she giggled as I rolled over top of her, holding most of my weight. I smothered her in kisses, kissing anywhere and everywhere I could. Our clothes came off along the way and it took everything in me not to take her then and there. I didn't have much, but when it came to Scarlett, I felt a sense of possessiveness. I would go to the ends of the earth for her, do anything for her, just to keep us together. Buried underneath me, I watched the excited nervousness and pure desire flicker in her eyes. She was absolutely everything to me and one day, when the rest of the world acknowledged it too, she would be mine.

"I'll go slow," I promised. It wasn't our first time, but our moments alone were few and far between. As much as I needed and wanted her, I didn't want to scare her away. Scarlett was strong when she wanted to be but when it came to us, that bravery tended to wither. I felt my erection harden between her legs when she shook her head.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Scarlett —"

She placed a finger on my lips, shutting me up. "I want you, okay? Just love me. Love me like … like you aren't allowed to."

She didn't know what she was saying. She wanted me to love her like when she found me in the back of Ma's truck. She wanted me to have her like treehouse secrets and a father forbidding a Negro from loving his little white girl. She wanted me like races through the backstreets of the city and fights in alleys and marches that demonstrated for freedom.

She wanted me like Birmingham wanted segregation and how I wanted her.

It was indescribable how I felt in that moment, with my girl begging me to have her physically when I already had her emotionally. I loved her inside and out, more than hate drove riots and more than bigotry drove men to burn houses. Need flared within me, coursing through my veins, and I felt like everything we'd been through, we were.

And so I kissed her, like a black man should never kiss a white woman.

I kissed her like tomorrow wasn't promised and all we had was now. I pressed my forehead against hers, using my hand to stroke myself and line up between her quivering thighs. I kept my eyes on hers, groaning as I felt the warmth and wetness against my erection. I pushed the head in slowly, wincing at how good it felt, but never letting her leave my sight. Scarlett had no patience and cupped her hands on my backside, pushing me inward. I half-growled, not prepared to feel her walls clench around me.

"Fuck Scarlett," I moaned, and she whimpered as she kissed me passionately. I drew both of her hands above her head, thrusting gradually with my hips. She was so damn tight and I used the moment to capture a mental photograph of her gazing at me with adoration.

Trying to keep an ounce of self-control was downright impossible. She purposefully bit on my bottom lip, causing me to plunge into her faster. I couldn't move fast enough or fill her as deeply as I wanted to.

I had no idea what I was doing, but primal instinct made me want to change positions. I pulled out of her quickly, the cool air sending shivers across my cock. I flipped her over before she could ask any questions, arranging her so that she was on her hands and knees. She looked back at me, completely trusting me without a hint of doubt in her features. I placed my left hand on the curvature of her back, aligning myself right at her entrance. I pushed in again and this time we both moaned simultaneously.

I gripped Scarlett's hips firmly, pulling her body to mine and then pushing it away. She was making sounds I'd never heard before and her head fell forward, her hair cascading down like a curtain. I reached forward, moving the tresses over her right shoulder.

"Look at me, baby," I pleaded. "I need to see your face."

She obliged, staring at me from her left side, and it made everything that much more intense. Scarlett was completely mesmerizing and she moaned each time I plunged roughly into her. Our bodies shook the bed and the sound of our skin slapping filled the open room. I slid in and out of her wetness, with beads of sweat dripping from my forehead. They fell onto the smooth arc of her spine, dripping downward.

"You're so damn perfect," I panted, watching her eyelashes flutter. She only clung to me harder in response, making my knees go weak. She had no idea of the effect she had on me, how every little thing she did made me love her even more. "We're perfect. Nothing can separate us, ever."

"Never ever," she whispered and one hand wandered across her delicate skin to massage her breast. I kneaded it firmly, thrusting into her at a frantic pace while her legs trembled beneath me. The feeling of her at this angle, of us and fulfilled promises, was too much to handle. She dug into the sheets, rocking back and forth as I increased my motions.

I worshipped her, adored her, with every fiber of my being. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for her, now or in the future. I remembered who I was —or who I pretended I wasn't —and Scarlett was the one to change that. She'd made me realize I didn't need to be someone else, just myself. It was for reasons like that I would always need her in my life. This was much more than raw, physical need; it was the combination of lust and love that drove us together in ways most people didn't understand.

I was too much of a gentleman to say so, but I loved how she allowed me to take her with no reservations. We loved roughly, in a way that could only be described as fucking. I fucked away the pain and the hell we'd been through. I fucked away the racial tension, the division that was granted upon us by the state of Alabama. I fucked away our past, our moments of uncertainty, and every time we'd allowed undeserved hatred to come between us.

I fucked her like I loved her —hard and with every ounce of my soul.

She tensed in mere seconds, crumbling as I grazed my hand between her legs and across her swollen bud. She squeezed me tightly until I couldn't even gather the thoughts in my head. It was powerful, the way she let go and her body convulsed with pleasure. I wasn't far behind her, and as soon as I felt her bend, I held onto her waist, thrusting once more and holding her still to me. My vision was blurred and her figure danced in a haze of peach skin and brunette curls.

Breathing erratically, I finally pulled out slowly, completely spent and exhausted. I wrapped my arm around her and together, we fell to our side, our bodies molded together with sticky perspiration. I went to brush her hair to the side and felt a tear fall from her eye.

"Scarlett?" I placed a hand under her chin, turning her to face me. Sure enough, she was crying, and I swept her hair away so I could look at her clearly. "Did I do something wrong?"

She shook her head, wiping away her tears. "No, no it was perfect. I suppose I am …"

She trailed off, unable to find the words. I placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Overwhelmed?"

Scarlett nodded, curling into me. "I love you so much. I'm just wondering when this stops."

"This?" I questioned, frowning at her statement. "You mean us?"

She didn't say anything and I felt her rapid heartbeat against my own.

"It doesn't," I told her firmly. "This—you and I and this love we have—it doesn't stop. We keep it going because we have to. I am nothing with you, Scarlett Isabella. Nothing. Do you understand me? You are my fucking world and I'll be damned if fear is gonna break us apart. Hell, we've beat everything else. The future is nothing, okay?"

She nodded again, but I wanted to know what changed her mind. "Hey, you're the one that told me we'll figure everything out. Why the change of heart?"

"You said you were … um … doing me like you loved me," she said softly, always the one to be proper in her speech.

"I said that out loud?" I asked in shock, thinking I had only thought those things.

"Yeah," she murmured. "And if you did _that_ , then you must love me a lot."

I laughed, burying my mouth in her hair to muffle the sound. "Yeah, I do. So don't be overwhelmed, all right? I don't know how else to love you, Scarlett, except with all my heart."

She blinked, another set of tears running down her face. I let them fall and instead reached for her diamond-clad hand and kissed the ring.

"You're my princess, baby," I whispered, pulling her to me and entangling our limbs together. "You've gotta start believing in happy endings."

Scarlett didn't say anything else and soon after, I heard her breathing even out as she fell into a blissful sleep.

I didn't want my girl questioning our future, and it made me feel like less than a man to know she had every right to. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I was going to figure something out.

And this time, it wasn't going to involve her Uncle James and cigars that left my lungs screaming for air.

.

.

.

I snuck out early the next morning, leaving a note for Pa and grabbing his truck keys from the bowl Victoria left near the coat hook. I knew he'd be angry, but I had to do something about Scarlett and my situation.

I drove down the long highway back to Birmingham, musing in my own thoughts. I kept myself occupied by thinking of everything I was going to say and watching the sunrise in the distance. I made it to the city in a little over an hour, the truck rumbling and fighting along the way. I arrived at the thrift store just in time to see Nessie unlocking the front door. She seemed surprised by my arrival, but waved me inside as I parked.

"Hey ya, Lincoln. Everything okay?" she asked, putting her purse behind the counter.

"It's good. I, uh, had a favor to ask you, though, if you had some free time," I rushed out.

Nessie grinned, unlocking the register with a small key. "Oh Lord, nothing ever good happens when folks ask for favors."

I laughed nervously, leaning against the glass case. "It's not bad, I promise. I was just seeing if you had an opening for a job or something. I don't know anything about retail, but I'm a hard worker, just like my Pa."

"I don't doubt it," she grinned, "but we have two problems. One, I don't own this place, I just run it. Mr. Paul is the owner and you'll have to ask him. And two, you're still illegal."

I sighed, knowing the second issue was going to be the biggest hurdle to overcome. "I know, I was going to cut my hair and see—"

The phone rang, interrupting our conversation, and Nessie held up an apologetic finger signaling me to wait. She answered it with "Hey Mama, what you doing calling me so early?" and then her mouth dropped open.

"Mama, hold on—I know, just … hold on!"

Nessie looked at me, dropped the phone to the counter, and ran to the back of the store. I just looked at her in bewilderment and she stopped in front of the door to a room labeled "office."

"Lincoln, you gonna follow me or what?"

I nodded, chasing after her into the small room as she turned on a television. She adjusted the antenna and we stood back as the president blared across the screen.

" _Citizens, today marks the dawn of a new era. I've received countless letters from people all over the southern states, including ones from a Mr. Masen, who resides in Birmingham. People like him have begged for change and today is that day. Georgia, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama and_ — _"_ The screen scrambled and Nessie hit it with a firm fist. "— _are now free citizens with every right, provision, and law granted to them by the United States of America. This victory is deemed one of many to come. As I continue to work on the laws for interracial marriage, consider this a new day for_ — _"_

I blinked, unable to decipher the president's message clearly. Nessie wrapped me in a hug, screaming and jumping and hollering all sorts of nonsense.

I just stared at her and then back to the screen, which eventually went black.

"What did he say?" I asked quietly.

"YOU'RE FREE LINCOLN!" she screamed, hugging me tightly. "Oh my word, boy, you are now a _legal_ citizen! Can you believe it? It's a good thing Mama wakes up early to make her buttermilk biscuits 'cause I would have missed …"

Nessie rambled on, yacking away, but I stood there, not moving.

 _Free?_

I was free, just like that?

I blinked once, twice, three times.

And I still couldn't move.

I'd dreamed of this day for many nights, every single time I crawled into the dumbwaiter in Ma's kitchen. I thought about it as I hung from a tree, struggling to gasp for a single breath. I considered how I would feel and how I'd jump for joy when and if the day ever came.

But I couldn't get my feet to budge.

Instead, a lump found its way in my throat, suffocating me and cutting off my air supply.

My eyes shined with tears and one by one, they fell. I watched them go down, down, down to the dirty linoleum floor, beating like drums in my ears. How long had I waited for this moment?

16 years, 7 months, 23 days, and every hour and minute and second in between.

I cried like the Negro had been beaten out of me, like the white was too proud to stand on its own. I cried for every single time I wished I could be in the open with everybody else. I cried like Ma never had to hide me, like Pa never had to work in a cotton field to support his illegal son.

Oh, I cried and shame filled my soul, but I was too overcome with emotions to care.

Something came over me and I fell to my knees, sobbing and covering my eyes. Nessie ran towards me, wrapping me in her arms and rocking me back and forth. "It's all right, sugar, let it out. You just let it all out."

I did. I knew she had her own parent on the phone, but she didn't leave me. I bawled right into her bosom, weeping with unthinkable, unspeakable joy.

"You're free, Lincoln, free as whites and blacks and everything you are," she whispered. "You let it go, honey. I know it's been hard, harder than anything I've ever been through. So you let it all out. Nessie's got you. Nessie's got you right here and I'm not going nowhere."

I don't know how long we stayed there, crying and hugging, but I do know when I finally stopped, it still didn't seem quite like enough.

.

.

.

I should have went back to James and Scarlett after that. Ma and Pa would have been enthusiastic about the turn of events, but I had one more trip to make. It led me through a gated community and left me standing in front of a pristine white house with a brass doorknocker.

I rang the bell instead, waiting and tapping my foot until Scarlett's mother answered the door, garbed in a silk robe.

"Lincoln Masen?"

I nodded and she waved me in across the marble floor and expensive furniture. "I do apologize for not being dressed. It's quite early. Is Scarlett with you?"

I shook my head, debating sitting down but deciding against it. "She's still in Meadow Hills. I'm here to speak to Charles."

"Oh, um …" Renee glanced around nervously, trying to think of an excuse. "He's still sleeping. Are you sure it's a good idea? I mean—"

"Ree, is that the mailman?" Charles came down the stairs, occupied with tying his robe belt. "I've told him again and again stop coming this damn early—"

"Hello, Mr. Swan."

Charles seemed shocked by my appearance in his living room, but he quickly gathered his composure and walked around the railing to stand next to his wife. "Is Scarlett with you? Is she okay? She's not hurt, is she?"

Despite his feelings towards me, he was genuinely concerned about his daughter's well-being. I calmed his fears and immediately interrupted him. "She's fine, probably still sleeping. In fact, she doesn't know I'm here."

They both stared at me, not knowing what to make of my arrival. The sofa was starting to look better and better. "May I sit down?"

"Say what you have to say already," Charles spit out.

"Why of course. Take a seat. Do you want anything to drink?" Renee was much more welcoming.

"I'm fine, thank you." I cleared my throat, trying to retrieve the speech from my head, but somehow it all went to hell. I couldn't remember a single word and all sense of articulation went out the window.

I sat on the plush soda, fumbling with my hands. "Well, as you know, I love your daughter very much. And she loves me."

Charles scowled, but didn't interrupt.

"And on our trip to Washington, I proposed."

Charles' face turned extremely red and if it weren't for Ma's expression from being mad at Pa, I wouldn't think it was possible for whites to turn that color. Renee placed a hand on her husband's knee, which I think was to keep him from punching me in the face.

For that I was grateful.

"She said yes, by the way. I know it's not legal so we are willing to wait, but as of this morning, biracial persons are no longer prohibited."

"WHAT?" Charles could no longer hold in his outburst and he stood up, pacing the floor.

"Dear, sit down before you have a heart attack." Renee rolled her eyes and patted the seat next to her.

"I am," Charles said, falling into a slump on the loveseat. "I am having a heart attack."

"Lincoln, did you come all the way here to just gloat in Charles' face?"

I looked at him, and as much as I wanted to, that wasn't my purpose. In fact, things were about to get much worse for him.

"No, I am not here to gloat. I'm here to make a business arrangement."

It was like the sound of cash register dinged in Mr. Swan's ears and he perked up. "Is that so?"

"Sort of," I replied bravely. "Several days ago, my family's house was burned to the ground—" I held up my hand as Charles began to defend himself. "—and yes, I know it wasn't you. However, now we are without a home. I know you're probably wondering why you should give a shit … but I'm going to tell you why you should."

I dug into the back pocket of my trousers, pulling out a formal letter from the White House. "I have here a letter from the president himself, proclaiming the immediate release of Jacob Jenks from Birmingham County Jail. He's out now, safe and sound, but in the last paragraph it states that the falsely accused has the right to surrender his complainant to be upheld by the strictest verdict of the law."

"What does that mean?" Renee asked in a worried tone.

"I'll tell you what it means," Charles said angrily. "It means he's blackmailing me! If I don't do what he asks, he'll turn me in for getting Jenks arrested!"

"Precisely," I smiled. "I know your buddies at the police station would rat you out, but as it turns out, I'm friends now with some powerful people. The president even mentioned me by name on the television. As you can imagine, this will not end well for you."

I expected Charles to explode, to find his gun and shoot me, or to at least threaten me with violence. Instead, he opened a book on the coffee table, pulling out a checkbook and a pen. "How much do you want?"

"Me? Not a dime," I said honestly. "But for once, Charles Swan, you are going to do some good with your money."

I laid out the plan in explicit detail, telling him the who's and where's and why's. He listened carefully, cringing ever so often, but in the end, signing our handwritten contract.

"You've got a lot of nerve, boy," Charles said, handing me the pen.

I shrugged, signing the paper myself. "You gain a lot of courage after you hang from a tree for hours on end. Besides, I meant what I said that day. You've got to love Scarlett more than you hate me. Can you do that?"

"I guess I don't have a choice now, do I?"

I shook my head, taking the paper and standing up. "We all have choices, Charles. It's when we make wise choices that separate the animals from men." I held out my hand, pointing it outward to him.

He stared at it, but this time he didn't linger. He shook it firmly once, then dropped it.

"Is it too soon to call you Dad?"

Renee grinned, then snorted, hiding her laughter behind her hand. Charles scowled and pointed to the door. "Goodbye Lincoln."

I winked, smiling and walking towards the entrance.

Yeah, today was a good day indeed.

.

.

.

 **FOUR YEARS LATER**

Charles kept his end of the deal.

A donation by an "anonymous wealthy citizen" built a new neighborhood, right on the edge of town. The one story homes were filled to capacity, one of them including my parents, and people of all races lived there rent free.

Jenks was able to have his record cleared and he spent many of his days as an old man, telling stories about life as a child slave to anyone who'd listen.

Pa quit his job as a cotton-picker, using his brute strength instead to order people to sign petitions for whatever the new cause of the month was for NIC: equal pay, women's rights, and the influx of black politicians. He was quite compelling when he wanted to be.

James was right alongside him, and together they were a force to be reckoned with. The state called them the Bully Brothers, and neither one would disagree with that fact.

After Alice graduated she moved to California, and the last I heard she was singing in a band and traveling across the state in a van. She came home only twice and when I saw her, she was all about love and pot and harmony. Strange, indeed.

Ma and Victoria hung out often because their husbands did and spent most of their days sipping lemonade on the porch and gossiping.

Jasper was still around, and he did well in school, always the president of this club or another. Jessica was older now, still chubby like she was long ago, but she was beginning to slim down. Rumor had it she was in love with Jasper's best friend, but until she decided fudge was not a lover, it'd be awhile before he even knew she existed.

Nessie, of the Olden Golden Thrift Shop, finally opened her own jewelry store. She called it Izzy's, after Scarlett's middle name, and she seemed to be doing quite well for herself. I heard business was booming and she was even featured in the Birmingham Gazette.

Scarlett and I, well, we spent a few years having sex in unwedded bliss.

No, I'm kidding. Well, partially.

In Scarlett's junior year she moved back home and until Charles finished remodeling the new neighborhood, we had a tough time seeing each other. I was all the way out in Meadow Hills, but we visited each other when we could. Charles loaned me a used Aston Martin, and I drove back and forth every weekend. When she graduated from high school she went to Samford University, where she still attends today. She switched majors every semester, but eventually settled on accounting. Or maybe it's nursing.

I wasn't so sure anymore.

We were too busy making out in the back of my car on the weekends to really focus on her studies. I had faith in her though. She'd graduate … someday.

I found my own way and it was in the place most people last expected—with my future father-in-law.

Charles Swans' factories were booming and even after times changed, he figured people still needed their textile goods, so he made two more factories. After a lot of prompting, I became one of the youngest—and the only—African American men to ever own a business in Birmingham. Charles signed over the rights, so no matter how mad he got at me, I'd have that business until I died. It was a way to ensure Scarlett would always be taken care of and I gave a certain percentage of the revenue to Jenks. He deserved it, after all.

Now it was June 12 and I hopped out of my car, arriving at Ma and Pa's house. Scarlett was already waiting for me on the porch and she squealed, running to me in a bright graphic dress and shiny, white, knee high leather boots.

"Lincoln!"

I was happy to see her too, but she looked awfully excited. "What?"

"You're never gonna guess! Go on, guess!"

"What?" I sighed, less than enthusiastically.

She squealed again, grabbing my hand and dragging me into Ma's house. Victoria and Ma looked mighty happy themselves, but they didn't give me a single hint at what was so exciting.

"Look! At the calendar," she pointed.

I stared, looking at the Monday date. "Yeah, it's the beginning of the week and I'm exhausted. So?"

"Look at the year," she shrieked.

The blur of '67 filled my sight. I really needed to get glasses and soon. "Yeah?"

"Remember this day, Edward Lincoln Masen! 'Cause today is the day you and I are getting married!"

"What?" I turned to her in shock and she nodded.

"They did it, baby! The Lovings won the Supreme Court case! We can get married!"

"Really?" I grinned, not believing the good news, and picked Scarlett up, spinning her in a circle.

"We can get married, Lincoln! Well, not here, yet, but in Virginia. They said folks were already lining up at the courthouses."

"We're getting married!" I laughed, dancing in the middle of the kitchen and dipping Scarlett onto her back for a kiss. Ma and Victoria followed in behind us.

"I guess you told him the news?" Ma asked.

"Sure did!" Scarlett grinned. "We'll pack tonight and make it a trip to remember!"

"How about you, Ma?" I questioned, turning towards her. "You and Pa getting married too?"

Ma shook her head, smiling. "We already are in our hearts baby. Besides, until Alabama gets their act together, we won't join in unity. I refuse to drive all the way up north. It won't even count when you two get back to Birmingham."

"Okay, Ma, you don't have to be such a realist," I told her, rolling my eyes. "We don't care, do we Scarlett?"

"Nope!"

We kept on dancing, jiggling and hopping and doing some weird move Scarlett saw on the big screen. She was a fancy one, that girl, but she was all mine.

.

.

.

We didn't get married on the 12th, or on the 13th either. Scarlett stayed at Ma and Pa's house with me instead of the dormitories. We woke up early the next morning to tell our families goodbye but when Scarlett went to wake Jenks up, he didn't bat an eye.

He passed away sometime that night, leaving to be with the Lord.

So we stayed in Birmingham, planning his funeral. Scarlett said she'd made a promise to lay him to rest in Georgia, so that's exactly what we did. Later that week we buried him on a planation next to his folks. Scarlett cried the entire time and when she read the eulogy, she mentioned cookies that didn't entirely make sense.

We waited another few weeks to get married, 'cause anytime sooner didn't seem right. We finally made the trip on August 19th, with both of our families traveling with us. Charles, as much as he despised me, fought for his daughter to have an expensive wedding. She didn't want one and insisted we marry in the courthouse.

It wasn't anything special, no groomsmen or bridesmaids, just us standing in the judge's office saying our vows in front of our families and God. Scarlett did have a bouquet in her hand, or as Ma likes to call them, weeds.

We didn't feel any different afterwards and we knew Birmingham wouldn't recognize us as legally married, but we didn't care. I was going to spend the rest of my life with the girl who found me hiding in the back of a Chevy.

The next day, after Ma went inside, Pa hesitated at the front door. "You show her yet?"

"Not yet Pa! You're ruining the surprise!"

He laughed, his stomach rumbling as he slammed the door behind him.

I continued strolling past their house, holding Scarlett's hand.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see," I replied, grinning.

The night sky was darkening and only the street lamps illuminated the sidewalks. We walked past several homes until we made it to the end of the street. I stopped at the last house, the white one with blue shutters, and paused.

"What's this?" she asked cautiously.

"Our home," I answered, pulling out a key. "It's the last one left but the donor's been saving it until today."

"You know who the investor is?" she asked in shock.

"Scarlett, baby, I know a lot of things," I replied, winking. She giggled, following me up the three steps and through the front door. It was already decorated, filled with furnishings to her liking. Each room was painted in pale colors with bright accents and flowers and there was even a miniature gold chandelier in the dining room.

I swept her into my arms, carrying her into our master bedroom. Scarlett's eyes widened at the soft chiffon curtains and detailed bed with a handmade canopy. "It's like … like …"

"A fairy tale?" I finished for her. "Yeah, I had a few guys come in and install the railing and we used silk for the—"

She interrupted me, pressing her lips against mine. "I can't believe you did all this."

"Yeah, but there's one more thing."

I set her down on her feet and held her hand as we walked out the back door. The patio was set up for backyard entertainment, but for now we walked across the lush, green grass.

In the very back, high up in an oak tree, stood a miniature version of our home.

"A treehouse!" she gasped. I nodded, allowing her to climb up first. When we got to the top, we ducked down, sitting on the freshly painted planks of wood.

Inside was the same blanket we used to lie on, and our book, _The Kingdom of_ _Haitha_ , bound in leather with its worn edges. She picked it up slowly, feeling the supple leather beneath her fingertips. "How'd you find this?"

"I didn't," I confessed. "Your father did after you moved into the dorms. I guess he finally discovered our secret hiding place."

She winced. "He wasn't mad, was he?"

I shook my head. "Naw, I think Charles is in a place of impartiality. He's not mad or happy, he just is."

"That's the best we can hope for then," she replied, flipping through the book. "This is really special, Lincoln. Thank you."

I shrugged off her appreciation. "It was nothing. I just want you to know I still think of you as my princess."

"Then you're still my knight," she countered as I pulled her into my arms.

"Wait, a knight? I haven't at least made it up the ranks to prince?"

"Sorry, oh mighty Lincoln," she said sarcastically. "That title's been taken."

I frowned, filled with jealously. "And by who may I ask?"

Scarlett smiled, taking my hand and placing it on her stomach. "Your son. Or your daughter. I don't know yet."

"What?!" I jumped up, forgetting all about the low ceiling and bumping my head. I didn't even feel any pain and I touched her stomach, rubbing it back and forth. "Really?"

"Yeah," she grinned, sighing in contentment while I squealed like no man ought to.

"WE'RE HAVING A BABY!" I yelled as loudly as I could and somewhere in the distance, a dog howled.

"Hush it, will you?" Scarlett said, smacking me across the chest. "I haven't told anyone yet!"

"Oh, sorry!" I said, not really apologizing. I didn't care who knew, I was the happiest fellow that ever lived.

I laughed, filled with joy as I laid on my back and pulled her down with me. She grinned with the same wide eyed beautiful brown eyes she had the day that I met her. She toyed with the skunk necklace, spinning and turning it in her hands. It was a bittersweet moment, a reminder of our love and of the passing of Jenks.

"Don't worry, Scarlett," I told her, sweeping back the strands of her hair. "He's in a better place now."

Jenks was somewhere where skin color didn't matter and he was dancing with the angels. Here in Alabama, my heart was dancing with him and I had an angel of my own.

The love of my life pointed out the window. I followed her gaze and together we stared out past our treehouse, past Birmingham, and into the night sky towards the North Star.

"Yeah," she smiled, placing her hand between us and kissing me deeply. "I know."

 ** _~~~~The End~~~~_**


End file.
